


Dead Inside

by Chairtastic



Category: Last Res0rt, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Climate Change is real, Crossover, Custom Shepard (Mass Effect), Cyberpunk, Doomed Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Psychic Abilities, Self-Hatred, Shepard (Mass Effect) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shepard - Freeform, Space Opera, Vampires, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chairtastic/pseuds/Chairtastic
Summary: Humanity isn’t in the best spot, neither is the galaxy.  Good thing they’ve got fuzzy friends!
Relationships: Aethyta/Benezia, Nihlus Kryik/Original Character(s), Nyreen Kandros/Aria T'Loak, Thane Krios/Female Shepard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

A lot of the nuance of this AU/Crossover will come to light during the telling of the story. But for the sake of readers knowing what they’re going to be reading here’s a basic rundown. In this AU, the climate crisis stymied Earth’s outward growth, to the point that when they make first contact in 2137 CE, they haven’t even gotten to the Mars prothean ruins. They’re rescued by alien benefactors, who help evacuate the population of Earth to other garden worlds nearby while Earth is given hardcore climate repairs. Not exaggerating there, the whole population.

The alien benefactors have unique gifts that set them apart from the rest of the galaxy, which they share with humans -- the manipulation of soul energy. They are an import from the webcomic [Last Res0rt](https://en.wikifur.com/wiki/Last_Res0rt), the talmi race. A lot of the military strength that the Systems Alliance had has been transferred over to them. Soul energy allows people the ability to inspire themselves or others with sudden revelations on command, teleport, read minds, etc. Think of it as an addition to the combat/biotic/tech trees. There will be glossaries at the end of chapters to explain most terms, but they will also appear in dialogue. Codex entries will be added as sidestory stuff, while they will serve to better inform the reader of the significance of some events, reading them is not mandatory.

To be clear, this is not a ‘humanity, fuck yeah’ story. Humans are starting out at the level of drell or pre-uplift krogan. Just barely above the vorcha. Climate change is real.

Summary: Humanity isn’t in the best spot, neither is the galaxy. Good thing they’ve got fuzzy friends!

**Chapter 1: Walking Dead.**

The doctors had told her to mix the tablets with her tea, to cover the bitter taste. So she took them with water. She sat at her desk, and watched the green tablets dissolve into bubbles which diffused the medicine throughout the liquid. Through the window, she could see Earth spin below -- her oceans swollen, and the land barren. The last touches of green on the blue planet were at the furthest north -- what had once been the taiga forests of old Russia. Everywhere else was dusty yellows and browns.

Shepard knocked back the medicine-water with a grimace and left the desk area. Soon enough the tablet would kick in, and she’d be out like a light. Before she moved to the bed, she doubled back and pulled down the window covering, and hid the Earth away.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the station, military men and women watched a wall of vital sign monitors. Sona Shepard entering her sleep cycle without issue was logged and forwarded to the on-call doctor, who then forwarded the information to Shepard’s commanding officer.

Captain Anderson, distracted, added the notification to his timeline with a few simple gestures on a tablet screen and returned to what he had been doing before. This required significant effort into being a decent human being who did not punch stupid politicians.

“Vega’s too stupid,” snarled Donnel Udina, middle-aged politician and an all-around jackass. The slighter man pushed away the relevant profile with clear disgust. “Do we want to send the image that we’re discount turians? Or worse, discount krogan? We need someone that will show the galaxy humanity’s value.” The divide between the politician and the military men was manyfold -- on opposite sides of a table, Udina in pink-brown civilian fashion while the navy men wore somber blues and golds. And while Udina had only a few files on his side, there were many on the navy’s.

“Humanity’s value doesn’t line up with the talents required of a Spectre,” said a grizzled but patient man to Anderson’s left. Admiral Hackett, Anderson’s commanding officer, retrieved Vega’s file with proper respect and placed it among the other rejected files. “We’re running low on candidates in the military. Pretty soon we’ll have to go to the civilian pile.”

Anderson made a face. Udina made a face. Neither of them wanted the civilian pile to even be looked at -- there plenty of good candidates, but all of them had unsavory records. Anderson leveled a glare to Udina, a statement without words.

The politician withered and checked the files near him. “Well… what about Shepard?” He slid a tablet across the table, and linked it to the projector in the middle. An image of a woman from the Indian subcontinent appeared, her hair as long as Alliance regulations allowed. Her arms and legs were swollen with muscle, and alongside her was an information box about her service record and pre-Alliance history. “Born on Earth, raised on the colonies.”

“She lost her family when slavers attacked Mindoir,” Hacket explained, his expression neutral. “Losing your home twice can seriously affect people in ways that aren’t immediately visible. And that’s before the problems on Akuze.”

Anderson cleared his throat and spoke for the first time in a while. “Shepard’s one of our best engineers. She survived Akuze and Mindoir because of her technical ability and battlefield control.” Through his tablet, he instructed the projector to switch to images of the projected woman in war games, training at an Alliance camp, and an award’s presentation ceremony. “She’s the only N7 candidate on the list, and has been approached by other tasks groups or special units for transfers.”

“I can see that,” Udina snarled as he looked through Shepard’s file on his own without the projector. He glared across the table, no longer cowed by Anderson’s. “She’s a damn Shattered, according to this.”

Anderson’s mouth tightened. Hackett sat up straighter in his chair. “Is there something wrong with being Shattered, Ambassador?” The black sclera and red eyes of both Alliance men met the white and brown of Udina’s.

“It’s a liability,” the politician muttered. He couldn’t hold their gaze and be brazen enough to be a jackass. “If she isn’t turned soon, one wayward bullet and we’ve got a zombie with Alliance training ruining our reputation.”

“Shepard has complied with every regulation on Shattered personnel.” Hackett’s voice never rose above a neutral tone, but the gravelly nature of it made it menacing all the same. “She has Captain Anderson here to help her make the change at her own pace. And she came to us with concerns over being Shattered even before the talmi showed us how to detect it, specifically because of the liability it created.”

“Why wasn’t she enrolled in the Scouts program, then? Or simply made into a vampire?” Udina was still too afraid of the djinn he had provoked to raise his voice again. “Why leave her like this for so long?”

Anderson took his eyes off Udina to look at Hackett, who in turn looked at him. They each measured how much the other wanted to reaveal, before Hackett nodded and they focused on Udina. “Diadem thinks she has the stuff to become an efreet,” Anderson announced, his tone conspiratorial.

Udina blinked, stunned. He remained that way for a few seconds before he recovered and gestured at them with Shepard’s file. “You’re serious? No bullshit?”

“This is not something we would joke about,” Hackett added. He narrowed his eyes at the politician. “If you like, I’m sure we can ask Diadem to halt her efforts on stopping the Quebec fires to verify….”

“That won’t be necessary!” Udina’s voice raised as Hackett’s hand reached for a communications terminal. “I… I’m just shocked is all. A _human_ efreet? And they’re… okay with that?”

“I can’t speak for the talmi government.” Hackett shook his head. “But Diadem is supportive of the idea.”

Udina assumed a thinker pose. “The first human Spectre, and the first human efreet? We’d be putting a lot of our eggs in one basket.”

“But we’d be showing the galaxy how much growth we can achieve,” Anderson added with a wide gesture. “None of the other races have managed to become efreets.”

“And _if_ she makes it,” Hackett added with emphasis, “she can help others make the change as well. She can put it into human terms.”

There was silence while Udina examined Shepard’s file, and scowled. “I still don’t like putting all our eggs in one basket. But we can’t win big unless we gamble big, as Law loves to say.” The politician tapped Shepard’s profile and a ring of green appeared at the edges. “I approve.”

Hackett accepted the tablet when it was pushed to him, and tapped it himself. A second green ring appeared. “I approve.”

“As Shepard’s commanding officer, I must recuse myself from the vote,” Anderson said, and tapped the profile tablet when it was passed to him. A white ring appeared within the two green rings. “By a two votes majority, the candidate is accepted.”

\--

Shepard had a love/hate relationship with the ajax-style of Alliance hardsuits. On one hand, she loved the sheer number of pockets and pouches which lined the armor’s mid and leg sections. Each one linked to an individual vectorspace pocket, which meant that she could keep a squad supplied and in the fight for literal weeks. Combined with greater weapon heat reduction, kinetic barrier strength, and overclocking potential with her omni-tool, and the ajax-style was the optimal hardsuit for her needs.

And on the other hand, with her muscular figure and the ajax-style’s profile, it made her look like a man when she had her helmet on. It was a vapid concern, petty. The hardsuit was meant to keep her alive and supplied for her missions. How it made her look should have been irrelevant. She wanted it to be irrelevant. But every time she suited up, she’d catch herself in the mirror and be filled with a surge of rage at her own reflection.

“I need to see a therapist,” she muttered to herself as she tied up her hair in preparation for helmet wear. “These body image issues are going to get me killed one day.”

While Shepard prepped her hair, her squadmates armored up.

Opposite her on the locker lineup was Kaidan Alenko, a Canadian biotic and significantly Shepard’s junior. The man was part of the Sentinel program, trained in the use of technology and biotics to take and deal damage. With a technological and biotic kinetic barrier overlaid on each other, combined with holographic armor generated from his hardsuit, the Lieutenant was like a walking tank.

Further down the line was Leeroy Jenkins, named after the famous pre-Collapse memetic sensation. A man even younger than Alenko, young enough to be Shepard’s grandson. He was bright, energetic, and happy that their mission brought him to his homeworld. No matter that said homeworld was under attack. While Alenko was a tank, and Shepard a walking armory, Jenkins had the big gun -- known as ‘the gauge’. They would rely on him to actually kill things for them.

Her own suiting up done, Shepard did her level best to walk off with professional decorum. Oogling her male subordinate’s backsides was poor form, especially as they could be dead soon. They were such _nice_ backsides, though.

“Commander,” called a voice. When Shepard stopped to turn, she saw Jenkins salute her. His hardsuit’s lower half was done up, but he only had his lightly armored inner suit from the waist up. “Um, do you have any advisories for ammo mods we should be using, ma’am?”

She tapped her left thigh to unfold her heavy pistol, a light brown pistol with an enclosed section around the trigger and the N7 logo painted on the side. When it finished, the weapon projected a holographic display of a white snowflake with a bullet at the center. “I tend to use cryo rounds myself. They help keep the weapon from overheating, and can incapacitate targets long enough to line up a headshot. Doesn’t do a whole lot other than that, though. Lieutenant, what about you?”

Alenko smirked. “Call me old fashioned, but I prefer armor-piercing rounds. Nothing fancy, kills them just as dead.” With that done, he went back to suiting up.

“The ammo mods you use, if any, should help you do your job better. Either to compensate for a weakness, or make your strengths stronger.”

“Um.” Jenkins broke his salute to rub the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you could do that soul thing and give me an idea?”

“Sure.” Shepard extended her pointer finger, and a soft white light began to shine from it. She tapped it to Jenkin’s forehead and the light vanished into the corporal’s skull. Inspiring people was the simplest trick in the book for Shepard, and one of the most interesting.

Jenkins squeezed his eyes shut as the mote of Shepard’s soul worked through his brain. Suddenly he snapped his eyes open with a look of realization. “Hammerhead rounds! They synergize well with the gauge , and help my sidearm remain relevant.”

“There you go, corporal. Finish getting dressed.” With that done, Shepard collapsed her pistol back to its travel size, and left the lockers. All around her, the ship’s crew got to their ready positions just in case their vessel, the Normandy, came under fire during the drop-off. The Normandy was a unique style of vessel for the Alliance, she was a stealth frigate, she was fast, and she could enter a planet’s atmosphere and leave again. The older ships they’d been given by their talmi allies were tough and highly focused, but none of them could achieve escape velocity on their own. This was to be Shepard’s first time deploying directly from the ship, rather than a specialized shuttle.

Things were ever so slightly tense because of the uncharted territory.

Near the ship’s APC was their guest, and Shepard’s evaluator. Nihlus Kryik, a turian Spectre. Turians were an angular people, likened to birds for their thin limbs and graceful movements. Three-fingered, two-toed, with metallic carapace over their skin and mandibles on either side of their mouths.

Shepard watched the Spectre adjust his weapons -- a shotgun and assault rifle both painted vibrant shades of red. They stuck out, clashed against Nihlus’ black and red armor, and Shepard couldn’t understand why. The bird-like alien glanced at Shepard, his mandibles flared slightly. “Something the matter?” Nihlus’ voice was warbled, an effect of turian physiology, but the translator implant in Shepard’s head made it something she could understand.

“I don’t know what to make of a turian evaluating my performance on a mission,” she answered, honestly. “I’m a combat engineer, not heavy infantry which the turians like.”

“Which the _Hierarchy_ likes,” the Spectre corrected. “The Council likes their Spectres to come from a variety of backgrounds, with diverse skillsets. It makes them more adaptable. For instance, I know a couple Spectres who focus primarily on information warfare -- an often overlooked area of expertise.”

Shepard arched a brow under her closed-face helmet. “Interesting. Glad I don’t have any stigma based on my expertise, then.”

Nihlus shrugged. “They couldn’t send a talmi Spectre because right now there’s only one -- and he’s hospitalized. A salarian or asari Spectre might have put you at ease, but the Council doesn’t want that.” Nihlus met Shepard’s eyes, and flared his mandibles. “The Council thinks a turian will be harsher on your performance, so they’ll have a convenient reason to deny you the position. Perhaps a good turian would be, but I’m not a good turian. They seem to have forgotten that.”

While Alenko and Jenkins approached, Shepard frowned. “The Council doesn’t care?”

“Most of the time, no.” Nihlus folded his assault rifle down and stored it on an armor mount on his back. “Facts tend to get in the way, with them.”

Over the intercom, the Normandy’s pilot let them know the ship was about to enter the planet’s atmosphere.

\--

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams hadn’t liked most aliens when her family had to leave Earth behind to be settled on Shanxi. The talmi were cute, but she had enough sisters to know cute can hide malevolence as much as beauty and charm. Then the turians came, and Ashley liked aliens even less.

She remembered how it was, before her grandfather the general had to surrender to the turians. Whole city blocks wiped out to kill one squad of marines. The turians were ‘gracious’ in that they would allow humans access to their own food and water reserves if they brought live talmi to their garrisons. There was no guarantee that reinforcements would come, there was no communication with the other -- at the time, alleged -- garden worlds humanity had been settled on.

It pissed her off when the occupation was only lifted because other, better, aliens had come to kick the turians in whatever they between their legs. It pissed her off that at no point was it considered that maybe humanity could win. It was a forgone conclusion. And she couldn’t say that it was the wrong one.

So she transferred to Eden Prime, doing security work for the arcologies while they were being set up and farmers toiled the alien soil with robot workers. She watched Shanxi recover from afar, and Earth recover from even further off. And she watched Eden Prime grow, in bursts as befit human nature, but with the help of aliens.

She was convinced that, when push came to shove, all the aliens that had come to Eden Prime would turn their backs on humanity just as quickly as they’d come to help.

And then, when a _two-kilometer_ tall dreadnought touched down near a suddenly-popular local spaceport, she thought she’d see it happen. Instead she watched an asari school teacher throw up a mass effect field long enough to get her human students to safety and die under burning gunfire.

The enemy was robotic in nature, cyclopean, their limbs were distinctly three-fingered, with backward-facing shins. Williams hadn’t seen anything like them before, but she soon found out that a grenade plus two bursts from a Vindicator assault rifle put them down as easily as they did anything else.

Eden Prime had become a battlefield just like Shanxi, and Earth before her. But all around her, Williams saw aliens and humans pick up guns and lay into the invaders. She saw a volus hop into a construction mech and literally stomp on the robots, a salarian who reconfigured his omni-tool to shoot holographic arrows into the invader’s eyes, and so many humans carrying a piece she thought she was in Texas again.

The arcology could look after itself. With her COs dead, she had to lead -- and she chose to push into the enemy’s position. She would find out what had brought them to Eden Prime in the first place.

\--

Aside from communications with Nihlus, radio silence was to be maintained. So there was no way to let the colony or the Normandy know that Jenkins had died almost the moment they set down planetside, or that the invaders were turning colonists into ground troops. They resembled and acted like zombies, but made through technology. Spike-like devices were used to impale the colonists, and their bodies would be converted into the techno-zombies, and unleashed on Shepard, Alenko, and their new friend Williams in waves.

The talmi supplied IFF software in Shepard’s helmet identified the invaders as ‘geth’, while the ground troops were ‘unknown’. It wasn’t easy getting through to the dig site, the entire reason they’d come to Eden Prime. N7-Demolishers like Shepard were optimized for holding defensive positions, not taking them. But grenades didn’t care who was defending or attacking, and she had plenty of those.

Imagine her surprise when the dig site was empty. Imagine her surprise when, halfway to the spaceport, the ship which had landed on Eden Prime -- against her understanding of mass effect fields -- up and left. And imagine her surprise when her squad got to the spaceport and found Nihlus dead.

Well, sort of dead, anyway.

The turian Spectre moved around, stiff. His warbling voice bordered on the demonic. He dragged his assault rifle on the ground behind him as he shambled forward. There was a hole in the back of his head, and as Shepard got closer she could tell there was one in the front as well.

“Saren….” The zombified turian snarled as he advanced toward a transport shuttle. “Saren.... **Saren!** ”

“Nihlus?” Shepard called out and lowered her pistol. She knew better than to put it away. “Nihlus, what happened?”

The turian stopped, and whirled around to look at Shepard like he only just became aware of her existence. His green eyes had turned red. “Shepard,” the Spectre growled. “I’m _dead_ , in case you haven’t noticed. What’s that insipid phrase your snipers like to rattle off?” Nihlus tapped the hole in his forehead. “Boom, headshot.”

“If he’s dead,” Williams snarled, and held up her assault rifle. “Why’s he up, walking and talking?”

“He’s a zombie,” Alenko explained quickly. “When someone’s soul is Shattered, and they don’t become a djinn before they die, they come back as a zombie. Tough, hard to kill, and focused single-mindedly on a goal.”

“Speaking of which,” Nihlus cut in and drew out the ‘s’ and ‘ch’ sounds. “I’m going to go find Saren, he went this way last I saw, and shove this,” he rattled his assault rifle, but didn’t pick it up off the ground entirely, “down his throat. Who’s with me?”

“First of all, who’s Saren,” Shepard started. “Second of all, how did you even get Shattered? Third of all -- “

“Too many questions,” Nihlus snarled and started to shamble off toward a monorail station. “Come on, once you talk to Saren a bit you’ll want to kill him too. Hell, you might want to kill him after you see what he looks li -- “

Nihlus’ rant was cut off as Shepard’s omni-tool flared to life. With a burst of sparks, Nihlus’ kinetic barrier was down. In the seconds after that, Shepard unloaded a salvo of cryo rounds into Nihlus’ exposed back. Ice crept over the zombie’s body and had him fall to the ground, immobile.

“That should keep him from hurting anyone until we can sort this mess out.” Shepard looked over her shoulder to her squadmate and plus one. “Let’s get going before this situation gets any stupider.”

“Was shooting him in the back really necessary?” Williams asked, face pensive. “He could have been useful and drawn enemy fire.”

“He could have just as easily turned and opened fire on _us_ ,” Alenko snapped. “Zombies can’t be predicted. That’s why there’s a kill order for them when encountered.”

“We can talk about what options were open to us after the mission is completed,” Shepard said, tone final. Without another word she started off toward the monorail that Nihlus had been set on. “Come on, there’s work to do.”

\--

“Captain, I must protest,” Dr. Karin Chakwas said to her ship’s CO. She was the oldest person on the ship, enjoying the longevity that talmi medicine provided at a brisk hundred and ten years old. “It is unethical to leave Nihlus like this.” Though she was smaller and shorter than Captain Anderson, she glared up at him without a hint of fear. “Trapped in this limbo state, frozen and aware of everything going on. If you want me to euthanize his remains, I can do that easily. But don’t expect me to do an autopsy of the living dead.”

Captain Anderson looked over Dr. Chakwas’ shoulder to examine the Normandy’s med bay. Shepard, Alenko, and Williams occupied three of the beds. Nihlus, frozen with cryo rounds, was strapped to a gurney. Next to him on a bed was a sealed body bag -- Jenkins. The mission had taken unexpected turns.

“Doctor,” the dead inside Captain carefully started. “You have had no problems doing examinations of vampires in the past.”

Dr. Chakwas clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and threw her hands in the air. “Local anesthesia works on vampires, Captain. Vampires can consent to surgery. Vampires can even shut off their pain receptors if they’re powerful enough. A zombie can do none of these things. The answer is _no_! I’m sure you can find someone on the Citadel with ethics loose enough to thaw him out and split his head open, but you won’t find them on this ship.”

Anderson lamented, not for the first time, that his crew had some of the highest standards of ethics in the Alliance. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We would lose valuable time, Doctor. Nihlus, like this, can tell us what happened. And an examination of his body could help prove my suspicions.”

“I have half a mind to give you five across the face for such talk, Captain.” The firebrand doctor outright glared at Anderson. “I don’t care if it’s insubordination, what you propose is unconscionable.” Dr. Chawkwas turned and looked over her shoulder at her med-bay. Her eyes lingered on Jenkins’ body bag and Nihlus’ zombie. “Nihlus has family on the Citadel. What if they see him like this? Jenkins’ family are entitled to ‘killed in action’ notice, as well -- what if they hear about this from the press when you _accuse_ a Council Spectre of the attack and use their son’s corpse as evidence? And what of Shepard?” The doctor turned back to face Anderson with fire in her eyes. Human eyes which stared into the supernaturally inhuman eyes of Anderson. “We need an efreet’s help to even figure out what’s _wrong_ with her -- all the diagnostic equipment I’ve tried to use _has exploded_ when I hooked Shepard up.”

“We don’t need the talmi for everything,” Anderson said, his voice began to raise as his patience wore thin. “This is something we can figure out on our own -- “

“The evidence disagrees with you!”

“If you would just _obey orders_ \-- “

“Your _unethical_ orders!” Dr. Chakwas made a disgusted sound. “For someone who hates Saren so much, you seem to think you can solve this problem by acting just like him.”

In an instant, the scene changed. It was not two senior officers disagreeing, nor a commander dealing with an insubordinate underling. Anderson grabbed Dr. Chakwas by the shoulders and lifted her off her feet. His face was a terrifying mask of rage that extended and broadened with the sound of snapping bones. Fur covered his hands and face as his nails lengthened into claws. The creature that had been Anderson made a terrifying hissing noise as air passed between sharp teeth. Anderson’s blood-red eyes glanced from Chakwas’ to something behind her, and back again.

Then, an instant later, all that was reversed. Anderson panted as the changes reversed, and he let go of the doctor. “You’re right,” he gasped. “I’m acting just like Saren.” He pinched the bridge of his nose again and started to walk away from the med-bay. “I’m sorry. I’ll think of something else. Return to your duties.”

Dr. Chakwas breathed unsteadily. She rubbed her shoulders where Anderson had grabbed her and calmed herself down from the near mauling she’d experienced. She was so distracted, she didn’t notice two of her patients -- Alenko and Williams -- lie back down on their medical beds, and put their sidearms away.

\---

**Glossary:**

  * Soul: A field of energy which exists in and around sentient creatures. The manipulation of this energy produces unique and familiar effects.
  * Shattered: A state where a person’s soul is broken apart into pieces, and the protective structures are removed. Can happen as a result of trauma, or excruciating physical/emotional pain.
  * Djinn: The result of a Shattered who are able to harness their powers and gain active control of their soul. Most of their basic abilities are sensory and passive, while more advanced skills can be more impressive. They are easily identified by their ‘dead eyes’, black sclera and glowing red irises.
  * Efreet: The next stage of evolution for a djinn. Their proficiency with their soul’s power allows them to convert their body into energy. Incredibly powerful, and incredibly dangerous.
  * Vampire: A specialized variant of djinn. They trade the ability to become an efreet for greater power over living things, and can hide their dead eyes at will. They have to feed periodically off sapient creatures to maintain their sanity and powers.
  * Scouts: A military training program that combines the soul with technological applications.
  * Zombie: The result of a Shattered who fails to live up to their potential. A corpse animated by fragments of their soul which linger on. While many have some of the skills and memories they possessed in life, they tend to have only one motivating force and will go through loved ones to achieve it.
  * Talmi: A bipedal marsupial species based in the Rosetta Nebula. Their world of origin is Noveria.
  * Vectorspace: A region of sub-space created by tears in space/time as a result of gravity. A vectorspace pocket can only be accessed by a vectorspace receiver tuned to the specific frequency of the pocket. Created by the talmi, and leased out across the galaxy.
  * Dead inside: Catch-all term for zombies and djinn varieties. Considered derogatory by the talmi.



And yes, Shepard is older than in canon as a result of not needing to be a biotic in the context of this story. She's in her sixties. Ashley is also older, in her early forties. Telomerase is a helluva drug.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Tomb soon, tomb fast.**

Her dreams were horrible. Flesh pulled apart and replaced with technology. Strange squid-like beings that rained from the sky and tore apart the universe. That same sense of loss she’d felt when she’d had to watch Earth fade into the distance the first time. Images that layered over each other until their combined weight threatened to crush her.

Suddenly there was a wave of cold, and an enveloping darkness which hid the images away. From the dark, a voice like the growl of an old diesel engine spoke one word.

**”[Breathe](https://youtu.be/lEqlG6bhZ80?t=75).”**

Shepard awoke with a choking gasp. Like she’d held her breath in her sleep. She sat up, clutched at her throat and coughed violently.

“Dr. Chakwas! Dr. Chakwas!”

Shepard heard a voice -- Kaidan? He called out to someone and then there was someone by her side. Shepard coughed, and with every spasm it felt like her throat closed up a little.

“Clear the way, Lieutenant.” Calm as the Pacific, Karin Chakwas stepped over to Shepard and jabbed her in the thigh with a cylindrical tube. Immediately there was a minor jab, and the tightness in her throat reduced. “Anaphylactic shock, possibly as a result of inhaling some of Nihlus’ brain tissue.” The older woman lifted Shepard’s chin and shone a light into her eyes. “Commander, are you feeling better?”

Shepard forced herself to keep her eyes open for the doctor’s examination and regained control of her breathing. “Better,” she rasped out. “Not well, but better.”

“A marked improvement, then.” The doctor released Shepard and went into the back room. “Whatever you did back on Eden Prime left a lingering effect which fried most of my diagnostic equipment, I’ll have to dust off the old stuff to get vital signs.”

Shepard groaned and rested her head in the crook between her pointer and thumb. “I bet the Citadel’s going to love getting the bill for all that.”

“Lieutenant Alenko looked it up for me, as it turns out all that equipment was under warranty. So they haven’t a leg to stand on, argument-wise.”

Shepard looked up and turned to Alenko -- Kaidan -- with a befuddled expression. “A top-secret prototype ship is equipped with equipment that comes with a warranty?”

The Canadian man smirked at her. “What? Did you think everything here was custom made? Some of the time, the civilian market has the best gear.”

“Tell me that the ship isn’t insured….”

“It isn’t.” A fourth voice joined the conversation. Shepard stood and turned to stand at attention alongside Alenko as Captain Anderson entered the med bay. “But that’s because the Alliance legitimately cannot afford the premiums for a ship like this. At ease.”

Dr. Chakwas returned to the med bay with an array of antique medical equipment, and guided Shepard into sitting back down to use it all.

“How’s our XO, Doctor?”

“I’m in the midst of finding out, Captain.” She set up a stethoscope to check the Commander’s heartbeat, then used a hammer to test certain nerves in her joints. “So far, she seems fine. Some moisture in her lungs, possibly a reaction to the allergen.” There were a few more tests done to check for abnormalities, before the doctor put the antique devices away. “There's a Dr. Michel on the Citadel, she runs a civilian clinic -- and I happen to know she deals with dextro-based life semi-frequently. She can get you a prescription to help with the anaphylaxis until Nihlus’ brain tissues break down fully in your lungs.”

“You’re certain she’s having an allergic reaction to Nihlus’... brain tissues?” Anderson’s eyebrow was an impressive curve at that moment.

“Reasonably certain. Both Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams had trace amounts in their lungs when we had a breathalyzer to test them.” Doctor Chakwas sat down at her desk and began to type up a referral. “It’s logical to assume that the Commander is in the same condition.” The doctor finished her referral and spun to give Shepard her full attention. “Due to the chance of another allergic reaction, I’m not clearing you for active duty just yet. But the moment Dr. Michel verifies you’ve got your meds, and are taking them, you’re good to go. Sound amenable, Commander?”

“I don’t expect to be getting into many firefights on the Citadel,” Shepard chuckled, and coughed immediately after. “Your terms are accepted.”

“Very good!”

Captain Anderson cleared his throat and stepped forward to flank Kaidan, who in turn flanked Shepard. “Better news than I’d hoped for. But still, I’d like a moment to talk to the Commander. In private, if you don’t mind?”

Dr. Chakwas sighed and rose from her desk. “I trust you don’t expect me to take Nihlus out of storage?”

“No no, he can stay in there. He probably won’t remember whatever we say.”

Shepard frowned and leaned over to look into the storage room behind the med bay. There, strapped to a gurney and propped up against the wall was Nihlus. Still frozen from Shepard’s cryo rounds. His dead eyes glowed through the ice which covered him.

Kaidan and Dr. Chakwas left the med bay while Shepard looked over Nihlus. “I… thought you would dispose of him, sir.” Shepard tried to be careful with how she worded her question into a declarative statement. To give the Captain as much room to explain as he needed.

“I would have, if not for the reports from Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams.” Anderson crossed his arms and stepped closer to Shepard. “If your story matches theirs, we’re in for some interesting times ahead.”

\--

The Citadel, were its arms ever fully extended, would likely have looked like a flower amongst the lavender and pink mists of the Serpent Nebula. Five arms attached to a central ring, the inner lining of which were lined with signs of life -- lights, towers, motion from ships and skycars -- this made the Citadel a sight worth seeing even if it seemed stymied.

“Citadel Control, this is SSV Normandy, requesting permission to land.”

The Normandy’s pilot, Joker, was a simple guy. Nanite-boosted physique, legs fitted with braces, Alliance-issued ballcap. He cracked jokes, he flew the ship, and he managed the resources which kept the ship going. And he genuinely disliked being patronized.

“SSV Normandy, this is Citadel Control. Standby for clearance.” One good thing about turians, they didn’t do a lot of patronizing. They expected people to do their jobs, and did their jobs in turn. Immediately, the up-front professionalism of the turian Citadel Control officer eased Joker’s nerves. “Clearance granted. You’re cleared for approach. Transferring you to a Collective operator.”

Joker scowled as he brought the Normandy into the Citadel arms. The ship’s profile didn’t gel with anything else in space around her. Turian dreadnoughts with their flared wings meant to give weapon mounts wide angles of fire, salarian sensor ships with their deceptive diagonal antennae, and asari elegant curves -- none of those matched the Normandy. Barring some design elements from turian engineers, the Normandy was uniquely human. The first uniquely human ship since the space shuttle.

“Collective Tower, this is SSV Normandy, requesting docking permission.” The Alliance didn’t have their own tower, or their own docks. They had to make do with whatever spare space the talmi would let them have. And if there wasn’t spare space, they’d have to go to the civilian tower.

“SSV Normandy, this is Collective Tower -- it looks like we have some spare room in dock four-four-two given how small your cute little ship is. Please enjoy your stay.” The talmi operator from the collective was positively _bubbly_ compared to the turian from before. She was clearly new, not yet jaded by the monotony of her job. Her comments about the Normandy -- his ship -- being ‘cute’ and ‘little’, however, were what bugged him.

Wordlessly, Joker pulled the Normandy toward the designated dock and had the wings fold up under the ship.

In the seat next to Joker’s at the pilot station, Kaidan arched a brow at Joker. “What’s got you so annoyed?”

“You can hear an alien belittle our first warship and not get annoyed?” Joker snapped, and frowned.

“She didn’t mean to belittle the ship -- space could be at a premium right now, and the Normandy being as small as she is could be beneficial.”

“Whether or not she _meant_ to, she still _did_.” The Normandy pulled up close to the central ring of the Citadel, where the docks lay. Seamlessly they passed from the void to the synthetic atmosphere of the docks and floated while metal clamps moved into position. “Every time we go anywhere outside Alliance space, it’s like we’re at the kids table of the galaxy. We gotta wait for the talmi to bring us our plate, and if we ask for too much everyone calls us a brat.”

“Some of us seem intent on acting like brats….” Kaidan stood and picked up his helmet from the floor. He was part of the Captain’s shore party, he had to leave as soon as the umbilical was connected. “Maybe instead of being miffed at being at the kid’s table, as you put it, you should be grateful that we weren’t left out in the cold to starve.”

Joker scoffed to himself while Kaidan left. “We probably coulda eaten _them_ if it got bad enough.” It was a poor attempt at humor, and Joker knew it. “They might’ve tasted delicious.”

\--

While Captain Anderson led them to the embassy offices on the upper levels of the Citadel’s luxurious ‘Presidium’, Shepard watched those who watched them. More than one blue-skinned near-human, tentacle-haired asari they passed eyed the Captain and Shepard herself with interest until they saw Anderson’s eyes. Then that interest became clear disgust. Shepard, with her helmet on, was given similar looks. The other races they passed seemed more preoccupied with their own affairs, but ever talmi they saw waved.

Talmi were, on average, shorter and fuzzier than the other races. The shortest adults were ninety-one centimeters, while the tallest were a hundred fifty-two. Like humans they had clear external ears, but the talmi’s were almost as big as their skull. They had tails with puffs of fur at the end, and fuzz that covered their bodies -- yet also hair.

Why they had hair when they had fur always confused Shepard.

There was a tense moment when the embassy secretary, an asari, started her greeting all sunshine and rainbows but became visibly afraid when she saw Anderson’s eyes.

There was an even more tense moment when Anderson, Shepard, Kaidan, and Ashley all walked into the joint talmi/human embassy offices to witness a shouting match. A middle-aged human man of Indian descent in a light-pink suit stood opposite a brown and black striped talmi seated at a desk -- the human seemed to be doing most of the shouting.

“Geth?! Geth?!” The human shouted, apoplectic. “And dreadnoughts that can land planet-side?! None of our colonies are safe against these kind of threats -- we don’t have the manpower, planet-side defenses, or the ships to respond appropriately!”

“Donnel, I -- “ The talmi started, but he was cut off by the human, Donnel.

“I’m not done!” He pointed at the talmi with all the fervor of a man laying down a curse. “Your government is the only one to have relations with the geth! You honestly expect me to believe you didn’t think this was a possibility?”

The talmi arched a brow. “May I speak now?” When Donnel didn’t start up again, he sighed. “Donnel, I understand where you’re coming from. The Collective is currently in an emergency session to discuss an increase in defense spending allocated for human colonies. And the geth surprised us as much as they surprised you.” 

“Little good that will do to -- “

“Ahem,” Captain Anderson cut into their discussion. “Ambassadors, I believe we had an appointment?”

“You did,” the talmi ambassador turned and looked at them. “Please, take a seat wherever you’re comfortable.”

Shepard couldn’t help but wince, the side of the ambassador’s face that hadn’t been visible at first was covered in claw marks, and his other eye was covered by an eyepatch designed after the talmi Collective’s flag. Two fields of pastel blue around a field of sunshine yellow with two blood-red handprints where the colors touched.

The ambassadorial offices were bigger than mess hall in the Normandy, two desks -- albeit with the talmi’s desk more elevated than the presumed human ambassador’s -- and all the amenities of a bar and lounge area, with a balcony view of the Presidium. Kaidan and Ashley made a beeline for the balcony while Shepard and Anderson advanced on the ambassadors.

“Commander Shepard, this is Donnel Undina, human ambassador to the Citadel,” Anderson gestured to the elder Indian man, “and this is Law Diploawn, talmi ambassador to the Citadel.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Law addressed Shepard with a smile and warm tone which almost made her believe the politician was as he seemed to be.

“Hmph,” Udina sniffed disdainfully at her. “Helmet off, soldier.”

Shepard complied, though she made a face like she’d seen waste on the floor before she did. “I didn’t think there’d _be_ a human ambassador, since we only made contact with the Citadel thirty years ago.” She arched her eyebrow at the older Indian man and enjoyed how he scowled. “Isn’t the standard practice to wait a century?”

“Normally yes,” Anderson replied and physically stepped between Udina and Shepard. He gave her a warning look, onto her little game. “But Law here has secured us a position where the Citadel _has_ to deal with us, at least often enough to warrant representation.”

“Oh?”

Law looked quite pleased with himself, and sat back in his chair. “It was mostly good luck on where your species happened to pop up. Humanity currently has colonies in three systems whose relays are vital for any trade route between Citadel Space and the Attican Traverse.”

“And Law won us the right to tax the use of those relays,” Anderson added, before Udina could speak. “The Traverse has some of the best colonization potential in the galaxy right now. And if the Council doesn’t do business with us, they have to do business with the Terminus Systems to get at it. Which is functionally impossible.”

“Congratulating Law on his political achievements isn’t the point of this meeting,” Udina snarled and walked around Anderson to face Shepard. “Finding out what the _hell you were thinking_ is!”

Shepard frowned, and squared her shoulders. “The colony was saved, the geth attack repelled.”

“And I’m sure the colonists would congratulate you.” A vein throbbed in Udina’s forehead. “But I have half a mind to call for a dishonorable discharge, Commander. Your mission was to secure the beacon! And to do well in front of a Council Spectre to earn humanity better representation!” He made a show of looking around the room. “Where’s the beacon? Where’s the _Spectre?_ ”

Shepard’s face tightened. “The beacon’s defense protocols activated when we got too close. It exploded as a result. And Nihlus… he didn’t make it.”

The human ambassador pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away. “You know, after the catastrophic failure that was Anderson’s shot at the Spectres, I didn’t think there was a way for yours to go worse. But here we are!” He turned around to glare balefully at Shepard. “You’ve found a way to exceed my low expectations, Commander.”

“Donnel,” Law said, even but firm. “That is enough.” He focused his one eye on Shepard. “The Council will accept the problems with the beacon -- Prothean technology is… tricky. But since the remains of the beacon were retrieved, we can attempt repairs.”

“Nihlus being killed, and accusing another Spectre of the murder -- that they will be less accepting of.” Udina approached Anderson and Shepard again. “More than likely, they will say we Shattered him, murdered him, and then made him believe Saren killed him rather than consider the possibility of Saren actually killing him.”

“We still have his zombie,” Shepard retorted. “They can examine him for any sign of tampering, they won’t find any.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not they find it. It matters what they say happened.” Udina crossed his arms and leaned backward. “In Citadel Space, the facts matter less than what is convenient for the Council.”

“Which is why we need to make acknowledging the facts the most politically palatable option,” Law added and pulled up a holographic display. “Nihlus had friends in the Spectres, and his family is here on the Citadel. If you can talk to them, and verify he was Shattered before the mission, we could make strides towards fixing this issue.”

“How will I go about doing that?” Shepard arched her brow at the talmi ambassador.

“Fortunately, the two groups are connected. Speak to his ex-wife, Tela Vasir -- she’s a Spectre, currently on the Citadel to have her custody time with their daughter, Calpura.” Law brought up an image of a severe-looking asari with purple markings around her eyes arranged like fishbones, and a much younger asari who had a darker blue skin tone and white marks under her eyes. “You could also speak to his… well, I guess widower is the correct term now. Sector Kyrik, my species’ Spectre. He’s currently in the Sumlu Ward hospital. He and his Spectre trainee might have insight on the topic.”

“Is… fraternization within the Spectres normal?” Shepard asked, while Law brought up pictures of the talmi Spectre and his trainee. Sector was a white-furred talmi with red markings and red hair, while the trainee was a turian of paler skin tone than Nihlus had been, with blue facial tattoos and a unique-looking eyepiece over his left eye.

“It’s tolerated. Like most things Spectre related. They’re discouraged from big, showy, spectacular weddings like what some human cultures do. Assassinations are too likely to occur. Flings are common, casual sex is expected, long term relationships are rare.” The talmi’s omnitool lit up and seconds later so did Shepard’s. “There, I’ve sent you the nav points, and some information for your investigation. I’ll call ahead, and let Sector know what’s happened.”

“What about Vasir? And Nihlus’ daughter?”

“The Council has to make those kinds of calls,” Anderson cut in. “And they’re not going to do so until the investigation is wrapped up.” He looked genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry. I can come with you to break the news, if you need it.”

Shepard felt a cold chill go down her spine. She had to break it to a girl who looked to be in her teens that her father wasn’t coming home. Chaplain work. Again. Shepard took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “No thank you, sir. I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing. The Blitz wasn’t that long ago, so I think I’m still in practice.”

After Akuze, she thought nothing could break her. But doing chaplain work after the Blitz had been something of a shattering experience.

“Alright. I’ll let you know when it’s time to present our evidence before the Council. We’re fortunately going to have to wait a while for Nihlus to thaw out. Should give you plenty of time to find leads.”

“While you’re talking to Sector and Vasir,” Law added. “I’m going to contact some information brokers, see if anyone’s managed to secure incriminating evidence on Spectres lately.”

“Law, please don’t make the Council even angrier by doing business with the Shadow Broker,” Udina begged and covered his face.

“Oh psh, it’s the Council’s fault for not paying the Broker to keep information off the market.” The talmi smiled, and nodded at Shepard. “Good hunting, Commander. Assuming no one gets shot at over this, we can still salvage the situation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification: In this AU, the Akuze incident happened in 2175 CE, as the colony was settled faster with talmi assistance.


	3. Chapter 3

[b]Chapter Three: Speak with Dead[/b]

There was a long elevator ride down from the Presidium to the Ward Junction. Truthfully, it was many elevator rides -- there were many junction points where elevators to different parts of the station would meet. Since none of the squad had the funds to afford a skycar rental, they had to hoof it. With nothing better to do, they talked.

“So… LT,” Ashley started once the doors closed on the elevator. Just the three of them, so they could expect some privacy. “You’re biotic, if I remember right?”

“That’s correct, Chief,” Kaidan responded, a bit wary. “Something up?”

“I’m just curious. Are you first generation, or…?”

Kaidan glanced at Ashley with a raised eyebrow. “I’m second generation. My mother was part of the first trials for eezo stimulation -- it didn’t let her develop biotic potential, but I was born a biotic.”

Ashley recoiled in horror. “What -- she was on the trial while pregnant with you or -- ?”

“Oh no, no.” Kaidan waved to dismiss the notion. “She didn’t have me until a year after the trials ended. Near as the talmi can tell, those tablets they give you won’t make [i]you[/i] biotic, but they’ll increase the odds of your kids being biotic.”

“...She took the talmi pills? Wasn’t there some company that was offering the same thing?”

“Oh them? Yeah,” Kaidan nodded. “They offered more money, but they didn’t include medical care after the trials ended, and you couldn’t sue them if something went wrong. Which it easily could have.” The Canadian smiled. “She used to tell me I used to get hurt all the time from making mass effect fields and making things lighter or heavier. By the time I was old enough to remember that sorta thing, she would’ve been bankrupt from all those medical bills.”

“I was on a similar trial once,” Shepard announced and looked over her shoulder. “I did a lot of research on the companies which were offering the treatment. Conatix and Binary Helix were the ones who would’ve paid the most. But like Kaidan said -- they hung you out to dry after. All in all, I’m told my kids had a forty-one percent chance to manifest biotics, and my grandkids would’ve had about half that, assuming no additional trials.”

Ashley picked up on a particular word that made her frown. “Had, Commander?”

Shepard turned to look back at the elevator doors. “Yeah, had.”

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Kaidan started to ramble about how he hadn’t meant to bring up such a sensitive topic, but Shepard waved him off.

“Don’t worry, Kaidan. Mindoir was thirteen years ago. I can talk about what happened.” But she didn’t. She pivoted and changed the subject. “Ashley?”

“Yes, ma’am?” The soldier braced herself for some horrible news, or reprimand for bringing up a personal topic.

“We need to get you some other armor. That setup is meant for field medics, you might get into trouble.” Shepard turned back to the doors just as the elevator dinged to let them know they neared the next junction station. “Plus, pink? C’mon.”

\--

Dr. Michel’s clinic was a bit out of the way, but at least on the same Citadel arm as Nihlus’ ex-wife and his daughter. The majority of the people they saw on the way there were non-Council races, volus, hanar, and elcor. The volus were a portly people who had to live in suits outside their home environment as they were a high-pressure species who breathed radically different gases than other species. The hanar were intelligent jellyfish who required translation implants to have their bioluminescent speech made audible, and mass effect fields to move outside the water. And elcor were a quadrupedal tank-like species whose emotions and inflections were subtle or pheromone-based to the point where they had to clarify their emotions.

Just inside there was a waiting room, lined with comfortable looking chairs. Shepard took note of the pictures that lined the walls -- the gleaming towers of Eden Prime, the spectacular quadruple rainbows of Horizon, and the magnetically floating mountains on Benning. She also saw something that made her eyes widen for a bit. Earth -- as it had been before Shepard was even born. Green lands, white clouds, and with both polar ice caps.

“Holy,” Kaidan almost swore before he caught himself, and approached the picture. “Where did she get a genuine satellite image of Earth from before the Collapse?”

“With helpful delight,” said an elcor with turquoise fabric draped over her back like a lab coat, “the doctor says she one found a primitive storage device that had some images recorded in its memory. The sale of those images helped to secure funds for this clinic, but that one is one she refuses to sell.” The elcor subtly turned her head to look at Shepard and Ashley. “With a respectful tone, do any of you have an appointment?”

“I’m Commander Shepard,” Shepard announced and stepped toward the desk. “I’m here with a referral from Dr. Chakwas?”

“With sudden realization, ah yes. Doctor Michel will be with you in a moment, she is with another patient.” The elcor gestured subtly for a human, but to extreme exaggeration for an elcor toward a terminal near the desk. “You will be able to pay for the fee for your visit there, just use the Collective’s credit account.”

Shepard frowned and looked at the terminal. “The Alliance doesn’t have a credit account?”

“With calming intent, I’m afraid not. The Citadel Council has not verified any human banks as meeting their security standard, and no verified banks have consented to extend the Alliance a line of credit.”

Ashely scoffed in disgust. “What? Our money’s not good enough?”

“With empathy born of experience, individual humans may obtain lines of credit, and some corporations have done so as well. It appears that only the Alliance itself has been blacklisted.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kaidan said, confused. “Why extend lines of credit to companies and individuals but not the government?”

Shepard sighed, because she could see why it played out that way. From how the Chief scowled, Shepard gathered that she could too. Make the Alliance unable to purchase beyond what they had in liquid assets at any time, stymie investment. “Well,” the Commander muttered, “if the Collective’s credit information is accepted, might as well use it.” Without further argument, she filled out the forms on the terminal 

“With barely concealed relief, thank you. Doctor Michel will be able to see you in a moment.” The elcor turned to look behind her, then returned to facing the humans. “With conspiratorial intent, could I ask you fine soldiers for assistance?”

“Something the matter?” Shepard’s eyebrow was raised from the word ‘conspiratorial’ and only went up past that.

“With forced neutrality, yes. The patient Dr. Michel is seeing right now is likely in need of help.”

Kaidan cut in, with a wavy gesture. “This seems dangerously close to violating patient confidentiality.”

“With forced neutrality, I know. Medical staff are mandatory reporters for incidents like this, but C-Sec has made it clear they have no intention of investigating the issue.”

“What’s the problem,” Shepard asked, and looked over to where the nurse had looked originally. She caught the tallest points of a turian’s fringe through a window to a patient room.

“For the past few weeks, a quarian girl has been coming here with her, in air quotation marks, ‘boyfriend’. She comes for treatment of cuts that go through her suit, head injuries from blunt force trauma, and persistent exposure to polonium. She claims the injuries are from work.” There was a moment of silence before the elcor nurse spoke again, with no clarification on her inflection. “The injuries are getting steadily worse.”

“A quarian?” Ashley said, incensed. “The people who created the geth?”

“With teeth clenched, she is a young woman. Too young to have created any geth which attacked your colony. And she needs help. Plaintively, please.”

“Are you afraid he’s going to hurt her in the clinic?” Shepard looked again, and saw the fringe of the turian vanish into a part of the clinic she couldn’t see.

“With bitter regret, no. If the situation is as I suspect, he knows better than to start anything. Even if I did not crush him, Dr. Michel is a vampire.”

“Oh boy,” Kaidan rubbed his forehead.

“Hasty to clarify, I know the ‘all humans are vampires’ thing is a stereotype, but it’s true with Dr. Michel. Either of us could crush him like a gnat, but I worry for her when she leaves the clinic.” The elcor visibly slouched, or perhaps she bowed, with beings as large as the elcor it was hard to tell. “Despairing, If C-Sec hadn’t refused to help, I wouldn’t have bothered you. But I don’t know what else to do.”

“We’ll help her, if we can,” Shepard decided. “But she has to want help, you understand?”

“Resigned, I understand.”

The door opened to the patient room opened, and Shepard saw a quarian step out. She was encased in a flexible rubber and metal spacesuit, with her face hidden behind an opaque glass visor that only showed her glowing eyes. Behind her was a human woman with red hair in a green medical uniform in the asari style, and a turian with a strange tattoo on his face that resembled a skull.

“Well that’s a face that just screams ‘doesn’t beat his girlfriend’,” Kaidan muttered.

“Right? Someone I’d expect to see in a church choir,” Ashley muttered alongside him.

“Stow the chatter,” Shepard said in a normal tone of voice. “We’re still on the clock.”

\--

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Tali’Zorah told herself. Pilgrimage was supposed to be a time of trial, yes, but not to the degree which she had experienced. She had come to the Citadel in the hopes that her engineering skills or navigational aptitude would prove useful.

Instead, she found herself working as a damned debt collector for a bosh’tet who thought ‘professional ethics’ were merely a suggestion. At least her ‘partner’ was willing to pay for a doctor any time she needed one.

The human was surprisingly knowledgable about quarian physiology. In hindsight, Tali shouldn’t have been too surprised that she had samples of bacteria and weakened viruses to keep her on her schedule to a functioning immune system given how close humanity had become to the talmi.

For two species that existed in the political shadow of the talmi, humans and quarians hadn’t yet interacted much with each other. Whether that was deliberate on the part of the fuzzy rats, or simply due to them being on literal opposite ends of the galaxy, she didn’t know.

“You doing okay?” Lanatus steadied Tali as she walked out of the patient room.

“I’m fine,” Tali responded and brushed his hand off her suit. “Mind the buckles.”

“Sure thing, Sparks.” The turian assassin smiled wryly and nodded to Dr. Michel. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

“It’s perfectly okay,” the human doctor responded with her strange lilting accent. “Walk-ins are always accepted, particularly for quarians.”

There were three other humans in the lobby when they arrived, two men and a woman. The first man, with a positively absurd number of pockets on his hardsuit was led into a normal patient room by Dr. Michel after she’d confirmed things with the nurse. With the stitches finally in her shoulder, Tali’Zorah was ready to get back to a day of soul-crushing work.

“Hey, um, miss?” The male human called out as she passed. “If it’s not insensitive to ask, you’re quarian, right? I don’t know all the races too well yet.”

Tali stopped and turned to the human. He probably thought her exotic, like the turians did. But he had a decent armor setup, with tech armor projectors built in. Perhaps he was intelligent enough to have a conversation with. “Yes, I’m quarian. You can typically tell by the suit.” She gestured to her suit, and narrowed her eyes slightly. “And how we’re not as short as the volus.”

The human was taken aback, but he smiled quickly. “Ah, good. I, uh, just wanted to make sure.”

“Smooth, LT. Smooth.” The female human in the ridiculously pink armor snarked.

“We have to go soon,” Lanatus whispered to her. “We have… things to do.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hold you up. I’m just curious.” The male human smiled in what his species perhaps thought was an endearing way, but to quarian facial expressions indicated internal pain. “Your species is being helped by the talmi too, right?”

Tali nodded. “Yes. They gave us a planet to colonize. Dextro-based ecosystems are hard to come by, so they turned down a lot of money by giving it away to us instead of selling it to the turians.” She turned and smirked at Lanatus, though it perhaps didn’t show through her mask.

“Laugh it up,” Lanatus drawled. “We’ll see how long it takes for you to get kicked off [i]that[/i] planet too.”

“Well, I just wanted to ask…,” the human started again. “From what I’ve gathered, the stereotype for both your people and the talmi is that they’re good with tech. Is there truth to that? Are there differences between quarian technical skill, and talmi?” He glanced at the human woman who scowled at him in turn.

“I… don’t know.” Tali shrugged. “Species aren’t broken down into simple categories like ‘good with soldering’, ‘good with eezo’ and stuff like that. My people have universal technical training, so everyone at least knows how to look after their suits, but the talmi have universal education too. Logically, that should include technical skill.” She spread her hands to enunciate how broadly she was generalizing with her next statement. “As for differences? Talmi can more easily get into small spaces, and they’re more flexible. So they tend to have their ships’ systems densely packed to where other species can’t easily get at components. Quarians favor a lot more open space in our designs.”

“Doesn’t a lot of open space strain your life support systems?” The human woman asked, less hostile than Tali had assumed she would be.

“Yes, but I personally find the tradeoff worth it.” She lifted her arm and showed an obvious patch in her suit. “More open space means less things that can catch on my suit.”

The human woman nodded, accepting of the answer.

“We really need to get going, Sparks. Money won’t make itself,” Lanatus muttered and nudged her toward the door.

“It was nice talking with you,” Tali lied easily and turned to walk away.

“Um, ma’am?” The human man stopped her again. “I don’t mean to pry, but we work for the human government -- the Systems Alliance? We’re always in the market for people willing to answer questions, or help us integrate into the technological web of the galaxy. In short, we’re hiring.” He lit up his omni-tool and offered a data packet about the Alliance Alien Employment Package. What was it with humans the capitalizations? “If you or anyone you know is willing to give us a call?”

Tali stopped and turned back to look at the packet. The offer was tempting, if for no other reason than most places wouldn’t even think of hiring a quarian, let alone governments. Lanatus didn’t give her any of the ‘better not’ warning signs, so she wordlessly stretched out her hand and lit up her omni-tool to receive the packet. “Thank you.”

With that, she left the clinic.

“You should take the job offer,” Lanatus told her as they went to the skycar. “With technical skills like yours, you’d have their ships all working on the same clock and singing them the time.”

“Pff,” Tali dismissed while she slipped into the driver’s seat. “Like they even have ships for me to serve on. They’d probably have me design rudimentary VIs for them or something.” While Lanatus slipped into the passenger’s side door, Tali briefly looked at the packet she found and searched for recent news involving humans. The headline ‘geth attack human colony’ almost made her swerve out of the driving lane when she saw it.

\--

“...a job offer. You gave her a job offer when asked to help her with possibly an abusive boyfriend.”

Kaidan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m kicking myself just fine thank you, Chief.”

Shepard sighed and hit the button for the elevator to go up a couple floors. They’d found the apartment complex listed as Vasir’s current address, Dantius Towers, and just needed to get started. She didn’t like handling the situation like this -- Alliance regs for death notification required formal dress, but for Spectres it looked like they got whatever the Council felt they deserved. And they got it when the Council said so. She suddenly wondered if she even wanted to work for the Council, if that’s how they behaved.

While on the ride up, she opened up her omni-tool’s extranet search function and quickly blitzed through asari military doctrine on death notification. The notifier was supposed to be a witness to the death, or someone who found the body. A peculiar tradition that Shepard thought might scar people who had already experienced tragedy even more.

“Shoulders squared,” the Commander said, quiet. “Helmets off, no jokes. Try to understand what they’re going through. We have to notify them of the death and ask questions. And blame the Council for this being necessary.” Shepard took her helmet off and collapsed it down a disk slightly bigger than the palm of her hand. The elevator opened up while Ashley and Kaidan did the same. There was an antechamber outside the apartment, a rock garden on one side behind polished panes of glass, and holographic displays of asari mosaics on the other. A bizarre mashup, but Shepard didn’t vocalize her sentiment.

There was only one door, no chance of a mistake. With terrible dread, the squad approached the door and buzzed for the doorman to review them.

“Hello,” a synthetic male voice patterned after a salarian spoke through the speaker on the camera. “The occupant is not expecting guests today. Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Shepard said. The VI started to rattle off the optimal ways to schedule an appointment when she cut it off, firm but not aggressive. “I’m Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. This is a death notification.”

The VI stopped mid-sentence and was silent for a moment. Then, in an almost dazed tone it replied. “I see. I will contact the occupant about this.”

Not five seconds later there was a rush of footsteps from the inside and an angry asari opened the door. Shepard had seen her in the picture, Tela Vasir the Spectre looked like she could kill anyone and everyone that got within arm’s reach. And here she was, in soft teal fuzzy slippers, a nightie, and a synth-wool robe, still as severe and dangerous looking.

“Of fucking course,” the asari snarled in a gruff tone. “I lay down for a nap, and someone’s dead. Just fuckin’ typical.” She leaned on the doorway and glared at the humans. “The fuck they send you losers for a death notification, anyway?”

Shepard could almost hear Ashley’s knuckles pop from how hard she clenched her fist, but the Commander remained neutral. “Ma’am, my name is Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. I’ve been asked by the talmi ambassador to the Citadel to inform you of your ex-husband’s death.”

The general pissed-off expression on Vasir’s face slipped away quicker than a cut could bleed, and all that was left was surprise.

“Nihlus was on a mission to Eden Prime, he was taken by surprise by an enemy combatant. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Hold the -- the fuck -- Nihlus can’t be….” For a moment Tela Vasir wasn’t the pissed off badass she appeared to be in her picture, she was a woman taken by surprise. She took a deep breath and put on a look that clearly said ‘I’m going to murder [i]something[/i]’. “Who did it?”

“That’s what we need to talk to you about, ma’am.”

“If the next words out of your mouth are something to the effect of ‘what’s your alibi’ I will personally twist your neck all the way around.” Vasir narrowed her eyes dangerously, but didn’t otherwise move. She was asari, and a Spectre. With her biotics, she likely didn’t [i]need[/i] to move to make good on her threat. “Nihlus and I split [i]amicably[/i]. He’s… he was a friend. He’s my daughter’s father, and I wouldn’t [i]do that[/i] to Calpura.”

“We have no reason to suspect you, ma’am,” Kaidan responded, voice soft. “But we do have questions about Nihlus.”

Shepard waited for Tela to process that for a moment before she started talking. “Had Nihlus talked to you about particularly tough assignments? Things that he hated having to do? Things that he wished he hadn’t done?”

“We’re Spectres,” Vasir responded with a curled lip. “There is literally [i]no one[/i] in the Spectres who doesn’t have jobs like that.” Vasir turned and leaned against her doorway her eyes distant. “We all have things that keep us up at night. But lately? Nihlus hadn’t talked to me about anything worse than usual.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Tell me he didn’t let someone go, and they came back for revenge.”

“I can verify that isn’t what happened, ma’am.”

“Thank the fucking goddess for small miracles, then. Was always afraid he’d go soft.”

“We need to know ma’am,” Shepard focused on how she had been Shattered -- the buildup of seeing other people suffer with nothing she could do to help, “it didn’t have to be one thing. There could have been many things that piled up after a while.”

“...Did Nihlus kill himself?” Vasir turned to look at them, suddenly attentive to their every facial expression. “Is that why you’re talking like this?” A thin skin of ultraviolet fire wrapped around her as she took a sudden step forward. “Did he leave my daughter fatherless and Sector a widower because he couldn’t [i]take the fucking pressure[/i] or some shit?”

“Ma’am,” Shepard held a hand up. “Nihlus didn’t kill himself. I can admit that much.”

The asari’s biotic aura died down and she went back to leaning against her doorway. “Fine. I’ll use my Spectre clearance to find out what you’re lying about when this is over.” She squinted, and looked up with an arched brow. “Wait, you said Eden Prime? The colony the geth attacked?”

Shepard nodded. “Nihlus was on a mission there when the attack happened. But, back to my earlier question?”

“Why the fuck do you need to know about Nihlus’ baggage?”

“Because we’re trying to figure out when he was Shattered.”

“Why would him being Shattered have anything… to do with….” As she spoke, Vasir must have put the pieces together. Her pissed off expression changed again, stunned beyond words. “He came back as a zombie?”

Shepard responded after a lengthy pause. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Vasir visibly struggled to put her heartless badass face back on for a few seconds before she got it right. “There was… an op, years ago. On Tuchanka, the krogan homeworld. Nihlus and I got into a fight right afterward. We split not long after. You don’t have the security clearance, don’t bother looking for it.” Vasir shrugged, and glared at Shepard as if she were the cause of Vasir’s pain. “The one-two punch from that op and the divorce might have done it, I don’t know.”

“Thank you, ma’am. That helps a lot. Do you need us to call someone?”

“I’m not some waify maiden who needs my mother to hold me while I cry,” Vasir snarled. “If we’re done, I’ve got to go put some damn pants on so I can break the news to my girl. And… and call Sector. To talk about what to do with her when my custody time is up.”

Shepard nodded, and backed away. Ashley and Kaidan took the hint and they began to walk toward the elevator as well.

“Hey, you!”

Shepard turned back to see Vasir, halfway through the door to her apartment.

“You never answered me. Who did it?”

“Commander,” Kaidan whispered. “We can’t tell her who did it, she’s so emotional right now that she might go after him and get herself killed too.”

“Or she can start using her resources to help us [i]catch[/i] the bastard,” Ashley retorted in a whisper.

“...Saren,” Shepard said, and turned her back on Vasir. “Nihlus’ zombie was screaming about how he was going to kill someone named Saren. I’ve never met them, and there was no one by that name on Eden Prime.” After the elevator closed, there was a tense air among the squad.

“That’s going to come back to bite us,” Kaidan sighed.

“Or she’ll deal with Saren even if the Council says no,” Ashley added.

“She would have found out anyway,” Shepard told them while she hit the buttons. “She told us she’d use her Spectre clearance to find out. And that’s assuming she didn’t do that biotic mind control thing to make one of us tell her. Nothing was going to make that situation better, but answering her question kept it from getting any worse.”

“Well, let’s hope that this ‘Sector’ guy takes the news with more grace.” Kaidan looked away briefly. “And less threats of violence.”

“If it were me, and I’d lost my husband while stuck in a hospital bed….” Ashley sighed. “Dunno if he’s going to be at the hospital when we get there. Might be hobbling up to the Presidium to choke Saren to death in person.”

“Or bludgeon him to death with a cast,” Shepard added with a trace of humor.

“Do they still use those poles to hold up IV bags here?” Kaidan cut in, eager to lessen the dreariness of the situation. “Could always harpoon him with one of those.”

“Run him over with a mobile bed!” Ashley followed suit.

“Poison him with levo medicine.”

“Jury-rig an x-ray machine into a radiation gun!”

“I’m sure Dr. Chakwas will appreciate the many ways we can turn medical devices into weapons of murder,” Shepard commented. “Now she’ll know to strap us down when we’re stuck in medical from now on.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Ill of the Dead**

Sumlu Ward was once a majority salarian Citadel arm. But a change in Citadel law regarding owning property as capital for investment made a great deal of the owners want to sell, and sell quickly. Talmi rushed in to buy apartments, warehouses, factories, and put them to work. Over time the salarian almost pyramidal buildings were overtaken by talmi aesthetics. Lights on strings which stretched between buildings, yellow lights in all the fixtures, and vibrantly colored art painted on any large and flat surface. For some, it strained the eyes.

Garrus Vakarian always felt a little… off when he went to Sumlu. The talmi flag was _everywhere_ \-- on clothes, on art, storefronts, on people, and more. Their ardent patriotism was understandable, to the turian. It helped remind them of their home, and made it so the Citadel couldn’t divide them from the Collective by cultural osmosis. But he’d heard too many stories about the ‘bloody hands’ of the talmi to be comfortable surrounded by them. The Shanxi Incident wasn’t _that_ long ago, and sometimes he would see the talmi’s bloody hands in turian dark blue instead of batarian red.

Sector had loaned him his skycar to get to and from the hospital faster -- often because he wanted Garrus to have a surefire way to get _out_ of Sumlu in case something happened. At first, Garrus had thought it had been in jest, but then he met Sector’s family. They’d come from all over Sumlu Ward to be with him while he recovered, and they could be ever so slightly suffocating. Talmi adults and children were all over the hospital, along with their cybee companions.

Sector’s mother was a portly talmi, her ears weighed down slightly with her higher body fat content and she was an avid cook. Such an avid cook that she’d taught herself several dextro-based dishes just so she could shove a caserole dish into Garrus’ hands whenever she saw him.

“You’re too thin,” she’d tell him with her khelish accent. “What if you got into a fight with a krogan, what would you do? I’ll tell you what the krogan would do, he’d snap you like a dry twig -- lookit you! I can practically count your backbone you’re so skinny.”

Garrus wasn’t skinny, he was rather average as far as turians went. But he couldn’t deny that gaining some pounds -- albeit in muscle mass -- might have been called for.

“How are you going to attract a wife when you’re so thin you look like a strong breeze could carry you away?” Sector’s mother hounded him the moment he crossed out of the hall into the hospital warren set aside for the talmi Spectre. She had a cooking apron on and had flour all over her arms. He honestly couldn’t tell if her light brown fur was greying at the edges or floured up in some spots -- talmi aging was _weird_ from a turian perspective. “You go sit down -- I’ll get you some food. Go on, git!” The ninety-nine-centimeter tall marsupial pushed the turian twice her height like he weighed nothing toward the kitchen and dining section. At least four pint-sized talmi kids ran past them to see what ‘bird man’ ate.

“Mrs. Valance,” Garrus started as he put his hands onto the doorframe to keep himself from being turiannapped, “I ate before I came here -- “

“I’ve told you before, you call me ‘eema’,” she ceased her pushing to wag her finger up at Garrus like he was a disobedient child.

“Eema,” he corrected, and sighed. “This is quite unprofession-al!” He’d slipped and was pushed through to the kitchen and dining area.

Talmi hospitals were quite different from most other species. Patients would be put into apartment suites meant for multiple families to stay with them. Naturally, the patient would have the largest personal room, as medical equipment was needed, but they were quite generous all around. And in the case of multiple patients in a suite, it would allow their smaller families to help each other -- perhaps to make new connections. The kitchen was the largest room in the suite overall, as it had to include a massive dining table for whole families to sit at. Garrus could smell many strange foods cooking on the stovetop, in the oven, and saw at least three active pressure cookers on the counters.

At the long table, a half-dozen talmi were already seated and eating piles of traditional talmi food -- mostly fish, shellfish, and cephalopods prepared in a variety of ways. Also seated at the table was a salarian -- lanky, amphibious, with bulging eyes and inward curled cranial horns -- dressed in black armor with yellow accents.

“Jondum, you’re here already?” Garrus tried to push back against Eema, but she was too strong and too dead set on getting him to the table.

“Garrus,” the salarian nodded his head in greeting, and gestured with two long sticks which he used as eating utensils. “I’ve been here an hour. They just keep putting food in front of me, and it seems rude to deny them.”

As he was all but forced into a chair, Garrus’ mandibles twitched at what he’d heard. “You’ve been sitting here, eating for an hour straight?”

“It’s good food! But no, I was in with Sector until a few minutes ago.” A white-and-red furred talmi woman, one of Sector’s aunts, seemed to appear from nowhere and laid a plate of fried dough spheres in front of Jondum. “If it was of your chirality, I would suggest you try some. A human dish, with talmi adjustments -- added starches and seasonings.” Jondum smiled, pinched a sphere between the stick utensils he had, and dipped it in some sauce before swallowing it. “Scrumptious. Thank you, Tanta.”

“Clear the counter,” Eema called out. “We gotta cook up some dextro food for Garrus, he’s wasting away -- just look at him.” She immediately went to the counter to begin clearing space. “Match, get that cubed Edessan steak from the freezer!”

The talmi Jondum had called ‘Tanta’ wiped her hands down on her apron and went for the walk-in freezer.

Garrus sighed and watched the younger talmi children, some of whom had crawled into their father’s pouches to eat at the table, watch him. “How is he?” He cast his eyes over to Jondum, who had eaten another fried dough ball.

“He’s absolutely desperate to get up and moving again,” the salarian Spectre said once he’d swallowed his food. “He didn’t take the news well -- he wants to be in multiple places at once. Here, with his family, to help deal with the pain. But also with Nihlus’ daughter, because she’s bound to be hurting too. And he wants to be on the prowl for the parties responsible.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” one of Sector’s uncles commented while he put more food on the table. The talmi male had the rare trait of facial hair, and he also had a set of twins in his pouch. “If this were Arael, we’d put a gang together and settle this problem.” The infant talmi waved to Garrus, in awe of how different he was.

“But this isn’t Arael,” Jondum countered and pointed with his stick utensils. “And we can’t go after anyone responsible until we know who they are, and the Council lets us off the leash.”

“Are we sure he’s not going to try and break out?” Garrus cut in as another of Sector’s relatives brought him some -- hopefully -- dextro-fruit juice to drink. “Oh, thank you.”

“I’ve got his crutches over here,” Jondum indicated the corner where the talmi-sized assist devices were propped up. “And his father -- his ‘abba’ -- is with him. I don’t imagine he’s happy with me about it, but he physically cannot get out of bed to do anything about it.”

Garrus blinked once, twice, and then a third time. “You do remember he can teleport, right?”

“With his injuries, I’m reasonably certain he wouldn’t try anythi -- “

An older male talmi, white-furred with red hair and red triangular markings and dressed in slightly out of fashion clothes walked into the kitchen with his tail lashing to either side. “Chart!” He shouted, exasperated. “ _Your son_ just teleported outta his hospital bed when I went to the bathroom!”

“When I’m cooking, he’s _your_ son!” Eema shouted back. She brandished a bread knife at her husband to point at him. “And go get him back in bed before he breaks his other leg!”

“You think I know where he went?!”

“I know where you’ll be going if you don’t find out!”

Jondum quickly popped another dough ball into his mouth and stood, while Garrus downed the juice and did the same. Garrus had been by enough to know that juice would be waiting for him when he got back if he left it, so best to drink it then and there. They didn’t bother to search the suite for him, they both assumed he would have ‘ported out and then to another floor.

The salarian Spectre’s omnitool flared to life while Garrus led the way with greater speed. “I have him on the ground floor,” Jondum announced, then cursed. “He’s acquired a [rascal](http://disneyinfinitycodes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Screen_shot_2012-11-27_at_8.35.55_PM.png)!”

“I’ll lock the skycar so he can’t use that,” Garrus said and looked away for just a moment to activate his omni-tool. In that moment he rounded a corner and almost ran into a trio of humans. What in the spirit’s names were humans doing in a talmi hospital? “Sorry, official Council business --” He started to rattle off the standard ‘get out of my way’ speech when the leader of the humans -- a man, he guessed -- held up his hand.

“I know who you are. The talmi ambassador sent me to talk to you and the talmi Spectre,” the human’s leader said. Quite the effeminate voice for a man. “Is something the matter?”

“Sector’s making a break for it,” Jondum said and advanced to offer his hand. “Jondum Bau Special Tactics and Recon, I’m aware of your difficult position Commander Shepard. Your assistance with this will go a long way to helping your case to the Council.”

The human woman looked to her fellow subordinate and smirked. “Told ya he’d try to get up to the Presidium.”

“How can I help?” Asked the human leader, Commander Shepard. Garrus noted the Commander’s armor was different from his subordinate’s. Closed-face helmet, an _absurd_ number of pockets all over his armor, and the sign of the human elite unit ‘N7’. A human elite would be just as good as a turian recruit, but at least they’d be competent.

“Take Garrus and pursue Sector,” Jondum said and went to work on his omni-tool. “I’ll stay here with one of your people to put roadblocks in his way to slow him down, and to conduct information warfare, keep any of this from becoming newsworthy.”

“Ashley,” Commander Shepard said and looked over his shoulder at the woman. “Let’s see if you can predict his behavior some more.”

“Aye aye,” the woman said and stepped forward to look at Jondum’s omni-tool display.

“We’ve got a bit of leeway time, he’s on a rascal, not a skycar,” Garrus led the way while he talked. “Just gotta get him back before something stupid happens.”

\--

Spectres were tough customers. They had to do the worst jobs in the galaxy -- black ops work for the Council. Everyone thought that being a Spectre was great -- they could do whatever they wanted. They didn’t see the strings attached, didn’t recognize the devil they dealed with, and ended up easily manipulated tools.

Tela was a wrecking ball with connections -- if given a target, she would swing. Jondum was an expert on information warfare and public relations, he could make problems go away or have them explode in people’s faces. Garrus, if he made the cut, would be the Council’s go-to for urban warfare. Saren was a monster who got results no matter what. Nihlus had been a master of turning people’s strengths into weaknesses.

Sector was the occultist of the Council. When the facts didn’t add up, or something akin to a horror vid was afoot, they called him. And this situation had occult red flags all up and down it. With Nihlus dead, and geth on the rampage in the Traverse, and Saren _still breathing_ , he couldn’t just lay in a hospital bed and do nothing.

So that’s why a white and red talmi in a hospital smock, stolen lab coat, with a cast on his leg up to the thigh and one on his forearm drove a rascal medical hoverchair down the streets of Sumlu Ward with reckless abandon. He didn’t have to get to the Presidium, Saren likely wasn’t on the station anymore. He just had to get to his ship, and he could get started.

He’d probably have to go to Omega, get some Citadel-illegal glitter to get his leg working in time. Would’ve had to go through the Terminus Systems anyway, Law would invariably get his ship stopped at a human relay. And there were no corridors that crossed the galactic core. In his pouch, his cybee wriggled and tried to get out but he used his good arm to push it back. “Sorry, Near. Not being talked down from this.”

As he approached an elevator from the street levels of Sumlu Ward to a level where he could get to the docks, the holo-indicator shifted red to indicate the access was disabled. Sector quickly shifted directions for another elevator which in turn shut off as he approached.

“Sector, stop this,” said Jondum’s voice as Sector’s omni-tool lit up. “I can disable any elevator you come across.”

“But you can’t disable them all at once,” Sector fired back. Fire safety protocols. All the elevators couldn’t be powered down at the same time -- trying to do so would automatically turn one on. So all Sector had to do was to get to all the elevators near him, to get them all turned off, then teleported himself and the rascal back to the first elevator. Suddenly he was in one place, then he was in another -- all with a puff of black smoke left behind. Jondum’s remote shutdown had been lifted, and he could enter it no problem.

“Sector, I can power it off with you in it,” his fellow Spectre warned.

“But not before it gets me within range to teleport up to the next level.” The talmi did just that, he didn’t wait for Jondum to make good on his threat, just teleported up and out the literal moment he could.

“We do not have confirmation of who killed Nihlus, or why he was killed!”

Sector turned off his omni-tool’s comm channel and kept on moving toward the docks. Soon enough he could see his ship among the many others. The comparatively unadorned ring at the back of the ship around the engines helped it stand out. She was slower than a more modern talmi ship, but she had rugged charm.

Overhead he saw a skycar land near the ship and grit his teeth. That was his skycar, Garrus would be involved. Well, Garrus didn’t have Spectre authorization -- yet -- so he couldn’t board Sector’s ship. Once he got close enough Sector would just teleport in and be done with the situation. Garrus could be picked up after his arm and leg were forced into being operable again.

Most people who were between him and the docks got out of his way when they saw how fast the two-tone talmi was moving. Most, but not all.

Sector only had a moment to recognize who was among the crowd before he had to teleport out of the rascal, as it had been punched. When he teleported he retained momentum, so he had to hop on his good leg to keep from falling over. While he did, he hopped around to see who had done the punching. Two meters and change tall at the hump, head with wide-set eyes and an armored plate on the forehead? Definitely krogan. Significant browning of the headcrest indicated advanced age, but what tipped him off was the deep cuts into the plate, the flame-like pattern tattooed onto it, and the scars that littered the face below. Armor could be swapped out, as could guns, but that was a face easily identified.

“Wrex,” Sector greeted with an unsteady laugh. He steadily began to hop backwards and prepared to teleport again while he held his bad leg up. “Feels like forever since I saw you.”

“Don’t waste your breath, rat-cakes.” The ancient krogan muttered as he easily advanced on the talmi half his height. “Cause I got a job to do, getting paid good money, and I’m going to see it done.”

“H-hey, what’re you -- opp!” Sector teleported away as the krogan got too close. “Personal space!” Sector hopped in place on a catwalk above the docks approach where Wrex was, content in his safety. “Whatever you’re being paid, I’ll up the money to cancel right now!”

“No can do, rat-cakes.” Wrex shook his toad-like head. “Part of the job is rejecting up-bids. Now get down here before I have to get mean.”

“Well I’d love to come down and chat, but I got places to be -- “ Sector was about to teleport again when Wrex gestured at him, wrapped in ultraviolet light. A field of blue energy wrapped around Sector and prevented any movement. He couldn’t even adjust his eyes. Biotic stasis.

“Set and serve.” Wrex clenched his hand and pulled it back. A biotic pull. Sector watched helplessly as his point of view shifted rapidly in response to being spun through the air until Wrex caught him by his tail. If he hadn’t been in stasis, that would have hurt enough for Sector to put more scars on the krogan’s face. “Alright, let’s go.” Wrex held Sector upside-down by his tail and walked off. “Not often I get paid so much to _not_ kill people.”

\--

“If we get any closer to the ship, the Citadel auto-defenses will light us up,” Garrus said moments before bullets started to pelt the skycar. “Okay, that’s not supposed to happen!”

“They’re coming from below, not from the auto-defenses!” Kaidan leaned out the window, and saw the flashes of gunfire down below. “Who are those guys?”

Garrus dropped the car out of the air to get them out of the line of fire, and ended up smashing the underside of the skycar on the ground below. He ignored the damage, because he needed to kill the people trying to kill him before he could worry about how Sector was going to murder him.

When he got out of the car alongside Commander Shepard, he saw that the skycar exterior didn’t have bulletholes, but was covered in glittering crystalline projectiles. He realized the danger as soon as Commander Shepard did. Hastily the Commander reconfigured his omni-tool and projected a holographic shield from it which protected him and Garrus when the crystals exploded. They were still knocked off their feet, but they weren’t made into ludicrous gibbs from the experience. Kaidan, who had the fortunate seating to leave from the other side, was unharmed.

“What was that?” The less senior human soldier called out.

“Needler rounds!” Commander Shepard shouted back. “Stick to cover, max out your kinetic barriers!”

“If they’re using needler rounds, that’s gotta be a troupe of Scouts,” Garrus muttered. He tapped his visor and looked into local cameras. Sure enough he could see the all-female soldiers, in their eye-catching outfits with ribbons and holographic displays. “Crap.”

“I’ll set up a pylon,” Commander Shepard said, and opened some of his excessive pockets. “Cover me, we’ll need the shield boost.”

“Can do.” Garrus unfolded his sniper rifle and peeked around the limited freight cover they had to work with. Immediately he saw a krogan female in star-spangled finery wearing a blonde wig with two long tails of hair of to either side advancing on them with a sticker-decorated flamethrower. He fired off a round at her, and grunted when her kinetic barrier tanked the hit.

Kaidan had made it around the ruined skycar and got to some crate cover across from Garrus. The human peeked out from behind the crates with his omni-tool flared, and Garrus fired off another shot soon after. Kaidan had overloaded the krogan Scout’s kinetic barrier, and Garrus capitalized on her sudden vulnerability. The krogan smirked, as she thought Garrus had missed, until she saw the deformation in her flamethrower tank.

She exploded in rainbow fire, and fell over the side of the walkway in her death thrashing.

A salarian with the silver-edged frilly skirt of a specialist peaked out from behind cover and fired off a round of needler projectiles to force Kaidan and Garrus back behind cover. Their crates shuddered and jostled violently from the explosion when the projectiles burst.

There was a whirring noise as the supply pylon Commander Shepard had been setting up came to life. Immediately the kinetic barriers of the humans and turian were fortified by a beehive-like additional layer. Enough to hopefully engage a firefight.

With the fear of instantly dying to needlers gone, Garrus could peak out and counter-snipe the sniper Scout in the far back. Poor girl had probably been lining up the perfect shot, and just waited for them to come into her crosshairs. Shots like that were only made in the vids, Garrus had been taught.

Kaidan and Commander Shepard’s heavy pistols were good at working down the Scouts under sustained fire, but the grenades Shepard’s pylon provided allowed them to flush out holdouts and cut them down with focused fire. Eventually the Scouts realized the firefight was turning against them, and began to break off. Garrus got lucky and hit her with a concussive round to break her barrier, just in time for Commander Shepard to freeze her in place with his cryo rounds. They would have a prisoner to interrogate, at least.

“Not sure if I should be happy about winning a fight with magical girls with guns,” Kaidan muttered as the firefight ended. Once the pylon had come online it was basically over for the Scouts. The victorious squad exited their scarred cover and advanced on the frozen captive’s position.

“They’re still mercs, Lieutenant,” Commander Shepard. “They’d be posing with your corpse if they’d won.”

“Still, it freaks me out that you coulda been one of them, Commander.”

Garrus would have arched his eyebrows if he had any, so instead he flared his mandibles. “Human Scouts must be pretty progressive, then. They’re not keen on taking on men in this part of the galaxy.”

Commander Shepard paused and looked at Garrus, who also paused. “I’m a _woman_ ,” Shepard clarified.

“Really? But you don’t have…” He gestured to the Commander’s chest. “And your shoulders are so broad.” He indicated their width with his hands. “And you’re so… muscular!”

“I’m a _soldier_ ,” she clarified. “And I have to haul things like that,” she jerked her thumb at the still active supply pylon, “on the regular. The only reason Ashley’s figure shows the way it does is because whoever issued her her amor didn’t issue her a hardsuit, but a _medic’s_ flexsuit.”

“Oh. Um.” Garrus itched at one of his mandibles and looked down, he was told that was a submission sign among humans. “I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there are lots of humans who can’t figure it out, either. Let’s go find out why these Scouts wanted into a Spectre’s ship.”

\---

Glossary:

  * Glitter: A type of medical sludge that was largely replaced by human-developed medi-gel. Made of nanomachines suspended in a conducting liquid plastic.
  * Needler: A type of rifle that fires homing crystals that move too slow to be affected by kinetic barriers. After a short duration, they explode.
  * Cybee: A synthetic assistant with a VI personality installed. They can float, deliver electric shocks, and wirelessly interact with most technology. They fill much of the same function of an omni-tool, and are given to young talmi to serve as friends and introductions to technology.




	5. Codex Entry: Fields of the Soul

**Codex Entry Unlocked: Fields of the Soul**

Narrated by a special guest: Ambassador Donnel Udina, of Earth.

The soul has always existed, but the talmi were the first race to tap into its power on a widespread scale. People have always become Shattered, and risen as zombies when they die, but each culture assigned different reasons as to why. Once the talmi returned to the galactic community in (Earth year 1755 CE), they brought with them techniques for tapping into these abilities and names to call them by.

The Occultist is a specialist of the soul. They can be religious leaders, spiritual academics, or simply deeply spiritual people; the path is open to anyone willing to put in the work. This has made it appealing for many races who have precious few biotics. A biotic must be born, but an occultist can be trained. Drell, batarians, quarians, hanar, and talmi are all races with prominent occult traditions. Their abilities are primarily sensory in nature, but as an occultist learns their own soul better they gain greater abilities. Mind-reading is a common first power. Note: While translators often call it ‘mind-reading’ nearly all practitioners say it is auditory in nature, and only surface thoughts can be listened to.

The Shaman combines their soul with soldier training to produce devastating warriors. A spiritual counterpart to the biotic vanguard, the shaman is typically seen in the midst of fellow soldiers. They can recite spiritual passages which strengthen themselves and other -- literally -- or create a sensory network which allows all affected forces to work as one mind with many bodies. Krogan, turians, batarians, and talmi all typically have shamans. If you hear your enemy chanting as one, or singing hymns in a firefight, expect to face a shaman.

The Scout is a technological expert who has taken a fancy to the soul. Their knowledge of the structure of objects combined with the soul allows them to create objects out of spiritual energy. The more brightly a soul shines, the more complex and resilient an object the scout can summon. Salarians, krogan, asari, talmi, and quarians all have scouts. They are dangerous because their ability to summon objects combined with technological skill will often allow them to produce the item they need to exploit a weakness in their enemy -- most often, this is a grenade or a bigger gun. Note: There is an all-women mercenary organization called the Scouts which are comprised mostly of scouts and their support staff. The distinction between these two is made by way of capitalization.

The Celeste is a biotic who adds to their power with spiritual training. Biotics are rare in most species, rarer still is a biotic who has the inclination and motivation to pursue celeste training. Because of this most extant celeste are asari, who seem to have natural soul-manipulating power on top of their universal biotics. While celeste have the same sensory-related powers of other spiritual fields, they have a significantly easier time gaining the more substantial abilities. Teleportation, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and even directly attacking another person’s soul -- these are considered the height of other soul fields, but are some of the early powers gained by a celeste. A politically prominent figure among the asari, Matriarch Benezia., who is considered the most powerful manipulator of the soul currently in the galaxy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5: Due to the Dead**

“Commander Shepard,” she introduced herself and took off her helmet. “I have some questions, then you’re free to go to lockup with C-Sec.”

The salarian Scout strained against her holographic omni-cuffs, and scowled. Her tiara and the hem of her skirt were bronze, to indicate a new member to the Scouts, and the diamond broach on her chest told Shepard the girl was just someone who pointed a neelder at people and shot when told to. A grunt.

“Why were you trying to get into that ship?”

“If I tell you, they’ll kill me,” the salarian Scout muttered. “I’m no snitch.”

“They’re probably going to assume you told us anyway, given we’re going to tell C-Sec to put you into the min-sec wing of the holding facility,” Garrus cut in with his arms crossed. “You know. Where they put police informants.”

“B-but I haven’t told you anything!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shepard said, and shrugged. “Council gets pissed off when people try to steal from Spectres. So, if you’re going to get the punishment for being a snitch anyway….?”

The salarian looked at Shepard and Garrus, then down at the floor and cursed. “We got hired by another Spectre. We weren’t going to break in, we just needed to disable the cameras and plant a bomb that would go off when the ship exited the station’s mass effect field.” She sighed. “We were told that the Spectre who owned the ship was coming to stop us, so my Scout Commander called in another unit to help fight him off long enough to plant the bomb.”

“Where is the bomb now?”

“It was on Undaka, the krogan you set on fire.” She looked up at them and shrugged. “What? It was heavy. As long as her body doesn’t pass through a mass effect field, it should be -- “

In the distance there was loud explosion from down below the docks.

“Oh. Well.” The Scout shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ way. “At least no one was killed.”

“Mac!” A distant voice from a lower level called out in despair. “Oh gods, Mac’s dead!”

“No one important. No one _important_ was killed.”

“He was going to be the first vorcha with a medical doctorate! He was going to save lives! Now he’s barbecue!”

The Scout closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m just going to stop talking.”

“Probably for the best,” Garrus said and glanced down at the scene of the explosion. “Damnit, it _does_ smell like barbecue. Anyway.” He focused on the Scout and flared his mandibles. “Which Spectre hired you?”

The Scout looked away and refused to say anything.

“Look,” Shepard said, and set her helmet down on the ground. “I get it. You were just doing a job, your boss shouldn’t have accepted it, and now you’re going to get blamed for something you didn’t do on purpose. There are ways to make this _go away_.” She met the salarian’s eyes and held her gaze. “But they all start with you telling us who hired you, if you know.”

“...Turian Spectre, I only heard his voice,” she said at length. “Their flanged way of speaking gives them away. I never saw his face. But if I heard his voice, I could confirm it.”

“Did it sound like this?” Garrus asked and lit up his omni-tool. An audio file started to play.

_“Congratulations on getting into the training course, Vakarian,”_ a recorded voice said. _“Your father tried to pull strings, get you off the list. You’re fortunate you had people pulling strings the other way, too.”_

“That’s him,” the Scout said. “That’s definitely him.” She took a moment to process the situation and hung her head. “I’m probably going to be dead before the day is out, huh?”

“Maybe,” Shepard said, picked up her helmet and stood up. “Is there a safe spot we can put her?”

“The Spectre office on the Presidium,” Garrus said, quickly. “Jondum can watch her and make sure she’s fit for giving evidence. I’ll contact him.”

“We should probably go before that fire spreads,” Kaidan added, as he looked over at the site of the explosion down below. “I think the bomb caught some helium-3 tanks and that’s why the fire looks that color.”

“I’ll call us a taxi,” Shepard said and lit up her omni-tool. “Assuming the Collective’s credit information is still good.”

“It is,” Jondum’s voice said from her omni-tool. “But I’ve sent a private car to your location.”

“What the -- you hacked my omni-tool?”

“When you were talking to Garrus in the hospital, yes. I heard your conversation, and inquiries to all the local mercenary groups have confirmed that attacks were planned on myself, Garrus, and Tela Vasir as well. Nihlus’ ex-wife.”

“We’ve met. Have you been able to stop the attacks?”

“Partially. The attack planned on Garrus I transferred to C-Sec jurisdiction, since he’s still a trainee and thus a private citizen. Their mail-crimes division is resolving the conflict with the relevant mercenary group.”

“Thanks, Jondum,” Garrus added as he waved down the sleek black skycar which had begun to approach them.

“You’re welcome. The attack on me was resolved by Gunnery Chief Williams, with some assistance from Sector’s family.”

“You got civilians involved?” Shepard asked, an edge in her voice.

“Civilians are always involved. The belief otherwise is something you will need to shed upon admittance to the unit, Commander. Also, as it turns out, kinetic barriers don’t block pans of boiling water, or glosstrich eggs when launched from a vacuum cannon. This is useful information.”

“Chief,” Shepard said, slow. “I know you’re listening in on this conversation. Did you kill a merc with a pan of boiling water when you had a perfectly good gun available?”

“No, Commander,” Ashley’s voice came through the omni-tool. “I used the boiling water to short out his kinetic barrier _then_ killed him with the gun.”

Shepard sighed. “I’ll read your report with interest, Chief. What about Vasir?”

“I am reasonably certain she’s fine,” Jondum said. “She sent me a short audio file just a moment ago.”

Shepard’s omni-tool suddenly started playing something like a horror vid-game trailer. Terrified crying, gasping for air. “Did you know that the Citadel Wards only extend their atmosphere seven meters from the arm?” Vasir’s voice said, sickeningly sweet.

“P-please,” someone begged on the recording. Their voice warbled in a way Shepard would describe as unnatural. “It was just business! It wasn’t personal!” There was a gunshot, cracking glass, the sound of rushing air, and the unknown person screamed one last time for mercy before the recording cut off.

“Well that’s… horrifying,” Shepard described, careful to be mild in her assessment.

“And unprofessional. Tela’s off her game, she should have known we could extract intel on his employer from a live captive,” Jondum added, a bit of an edge in his voice. “A bomb on a ship, bio-weapons disguised as flower delivery, a box of levo-chocolate made to look like dextro-chocolate, and a drell assassin instructed to pose as cleaning staff? These are all things that could only kill us if we weren’t suspicious. Spectres are by their nature suspicious. Saren should know better.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t have a high opinion of you,” Shepard offered. Kaidan got the captured Scout up and led her to the skycar, which Shepard got into once she was secured. Kaidan got in on the opposite side, and Garrus took the passenger seat. 

“An uncomfortable but plausible scenario. Sector has been apprehended and is being brought back to the hospital by a mercenary. Once he is returned, I will leave for the Spectre office and watch your captive. Garrus, stay with the Commander and coordinate this evidence for the Council hearing, I’ll call them and have the schedule rearranged to bring all this up.”

\--

“Commander Shepard, I feel like this is something I’ll have to say to you often so I might as well get into practice. One moment.” Udina cleared his throat and warmed up with a few ‘mi mi mi’s before he nearly roared out. “What in the hell were you thinking?!”

“I --” Commander Shepard started, before Udina cut her off. Once more they were in the talmi/human embassy, this time just Shepard, Anderson, and Udina. Anderson was off on the balcony in talks with someone on his omni-tool, while Shepard stood at attention in front of Udina with her helmet under her arm.

“A firefight at the docks -- a _bomb_ going off, killing a minor political figure -- one of your people murdering someone _in a hospital_....” Udina stepped back and covered his eyes with his hand, despairing. “Do you not understand how tenuous your candidacy with the Spectres is? Do you not understand how tenuous humanity’s position in the galaxy is?”

“Sir, with respect, none of those actions were instigated by me or my people.” Shepard did her level best to avoid snapping at the jackass politician. “The Scouts opened fire _on us_ , that assassin brought a biological weapon into a hospital _disguised as flowers_.”

“You think the _Council_ will care? You’re a politically convenient scapegoat, and by proxy, so is humanity!”

“...Perhaps,” Shepard said, though she began to wonder if Udina was projecting how _he_ would act onto the Council. “But we have two Spectres and a Spectre trainee on our side of the issue now. We have a witness, and we have a rough estimate of when Nihlus was Shattered. We have to hope the Council listens to their own Spectres, or me being one wouldn’t matter anyway.”

Udina pointed at Shepard’s face like he wanted to refute her words, but only glared in silence. “Gah,” he snapped and looked away. “Because of you, we have to trust a lot of our fate to aliens. Again. Pray it doesn’t backfire, Commander.”

“It worked with the talmi.”

“Arguably.” The ambassador glanced over to his coworker’s empty desk. “And of course Law is off whoring it up in Chora’s Den when this is all happening.”

“With respect, sir, perhaps you would be in a better position to deal with this if you’d gone with him.”

Udina’s face lit up bright red with anger, and he pulled his hand back as if to slap Shepard, when a loud forced cough caught stopped them both.

Captain Anderson leveled a blistering glare at the two of them, then returned to his call. “I think you’d be a perfect fit, miss,” he said, pleasant and polite. Not at all like how he’d looked picoseconds before. “The Normandy is docked in bay four-four-two, I’ll get you a pass code so you can come aboard, and we’ll secure funds for you to purchase rations and medical supplies that meet your needs. Enjoy your time ashore while you still have it, Anderson out.” Back to apocalyptic fury, the Captain stormed over to the two of them when his call ended. “Do you have no grasp of propriety, Udina? Shouting like that while I’m conducting an _interview?_ And you,” he whirled on Shepard with a dramatic finger point. “No matter how desperately Udina needs to get laid you were out of line to insinuate that he would be better equipped to deal with this situation in a _bar_.”

“Hmph.” “Apologies, Captain.”

The door to the office split apart to open up -- a weird trait of Citadel doors -- and Ambassador Law stepped through. He looked pleased with himself, and only briefly glanced at the humans as he made his way to his desk.

“You’ll be happy to know,” the politician said, smug, “that my negotiations with the Shadow Broker were concluded to mutual benefit -- and that we’ve heard back from the geth consensus. Two important pieces of information are now available when the meeting comes up to help get the situation under our control.”

“And how many harlots did you have to lay with to _get_ that information,” Udina snarled.

“Donnel, I’m shocked.” Law feigned surprise and drew attention to a pearl ring on his finger that Shepard didn’t recall being there earlier. “The Shadow Broker deals in money and information. The sex is just for fun. You should try it some time.”

Shepard, monstrously uncomfortable about the topic, looked in the complete opposite direction from the talmi and human ambassadors.

“I have an intercepted communication log from Saren and a figure we’ve identified as Matriarch Benezia -- gloating about the damage done to Eden Prime, even though the bombs were diffused.” Law had the decency to look disgusted as he talked about it, even with the talmi’s bloody-handed flag on his face. “And from the geth consensus, they confirmed that a ship matching that description approached their space and tried to initiate relations with the geth. Five percent of the total geth population left with it.”

“You think the Council will buy that?”

“I think they will see the allegation that the force of geth currently being fielded is such a tiny fraction of the geth overall as reason to guard their flank.” Law frowned. “Tevos won’t take Benezia being involved well -- it will make her life hell a political hellscape on Thessia given their bizarre government. But the alternative is to have Benezia’s anti-alien actions be seen as part of a plot by the asari government. She’ll want it dealt with quickly and effectively. In short, by a Spectre.”

“She has a bunch to pick from,” Shepard muttered.

Law nodded, acknowledging the point. “It’s unlikely we’ll get you confirmed as a Spectre given the events of the mission. But your involvement was instrumental in uncovering plots against some of their top Spectres, and endangering the political landscape. Councilor Valern is a man of many rules -- and one of them is ‘don’t squander talent’.” The talmi tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at Shepard. “And your talents could make you useful. Enough that they could simply assign another Spectre to observe you.”

“Back to square one?”

“It’s better than the door being closed altogether,” Law shrugged.

“He’s right,” Anderson said and looked Shepard in the eye. “Nihlus was supposed to watch you for multiple missions, see how well you do in a variety of situations. Another Spectre can do just as well.”

A holographic projection of an asari synthetic figure appeared on Law’s desk suddenly and spoke with a pleasant VI inflection. “Ambassador, this is Avina with a reminder that your meeting with the Council has been moved. Your new meeting time is in fifteen minutes -- if you could please make your way to the Council lobby? We apologize for the minimal notice, but unforeseen consequences arose.”

“Thank you, Avina,” Law said and dismissed the pop-up. “So much for post-sex nachos.” The politician sighed. “Come on, let’s get going.”

\--

The Council chamber was at the pinnacle of an excessively tall tower sprouting up from the Presidium ring. It reached almost to the center of the Citadel’s rotation. Inside, the metal was colored demure brown, there were synthetic trees that gave off scents of calming perfumes and artificial birdsong throughout the mighty chamber.

Many staircases and landings led up to the Council itself. They stood with their backs to an array of windows, on the far end of a glass floor which covered a grove of truly alive plants below. Opposite them was a railed balcony, where supplicants would beg them for their aid. Or so it seemed, to Shepard.

All the grandeur, all the build up, and the Council was in reality just three people standing in an impressive room, saying unimpressive things and expecting applause. To either side of their pontification space were balconies where those next on the docket would wait their turn. On the non-Council side of the room was Shepard, Anderson, Udina, and Law. Behind them was Shepard’s squad, Ashley, and Kaidan, with Garrus, Jondum, and Vasir in the shadows behind them.

Two blue-uniformed C-Sec officers armed with powerful shotguns walked on either side of a wheeled gurney where Nihlus’ zombie thrashed and raved. He’d finally thawed out. Shepard glanced over at Vasir and saw an unexpected expression on the vicious asari’s face -- regret.

“We don’t let Sector see him like this,” Shepard heard Vasir whisper to the other Spectres. “Don’t even let him see a _vid_.”

“Agreed,” Jondum muttered, visibly disturbed by how Nihlus thrashed.

“Wasn’t even going to consider it,” Garrus said back.

“The Council session regarding the geth attack on human colony Eden Prime, Spectre candidacy of Lieutenant Commander Sona Shepard, and the death of Nihlus Kyrik is now in progress,” the virtual voice of Avina said from the room’s intercoms. “Would the relevant parties please approach the podium?”

Law, Udina, and Shepard approached the designated area. Nihlus was wheeled in behind them. The Councilors didn’t stand out by way of dress or bearing -- the turian Councilor wore navy blue, but fancy clothes; the purple asari Councilor wore a long and restrictive dress of orange latex, and the salarian Councilor was dressed up in an overrobe of black and red.

Tevos, the asari Councilor spoke first. “A great deal has happened in a short span of time. Your colony was attacked by geth, the beacon that was to be retrieved was destroyed, and one of our best Spectres was Shattered and killed.” The asari comported herself with regality -- like her every motion implied something. How batarian, Shepard thought.

“We have valid reasons to suspect another of your Spectres in the affair….” Udina started in a low growl. From there, Shepard tuned out the specifics of their words to focus on what was being said. She had been a career soldier for a _long_ time. Sorting through political bullshit was required to know what was being asked of her.

Law and Udina revealed the evidence that had been collected piecemeal, and while the Council objected to some of the methods used to get the information, when they called on the other Spectres to verify it went in favor of the talmi-human team. Sniping between the turian Councilor, Sparatus, and the ambassadors resulted.

Valern, the salarian Councilor, questioned the _why_ of Saren’s actions. Which in turn brought up the audio recording Law had obtained. 

_“Eden Prime was a major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the conduit.” “And one step closer to the return of the Reapers.”_

That word, Reaper, set Shepard on edge. A vision made her clutch her head as if in a sudden migraine. Flesh pulled apart and replaced by tech. Ships descended from the sky and rendered whole worlds barren. Creatures twisted in horrific poses. A distant world, all in shadow. The dreadnought from Eden Prime scurried in the dark like a cockroach.

“...Commander Shepard, are you alright?” The asari Councilor sounded legitimately concerned. She was better at the politician's facade than Law.

“The beacon showed me a vision when it activated,” Shepard replied. “I can’t really make sense of it, but whatever the Protheans were trying to say, they knew that dreadnought the geth had well.” She rubbed her face and managed to meet the Council’s eyes with her head up. “I saw multiple ships just like that attacking their cities.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Valern commented and cupped his chin. “But deeply disturbing. And the geth are adamant that the platforms we’ve seen represent only a fringe group that Saren has cajoled into his service?” The question was directed at Law, but Valern’s eyes never left Shepard.

“The consensus is firm in this, yes.” Law bowed slightly as he replied. “They went so far as to custom design several weapons for use against mobile geth platforms, which my government will make available to C-Sec officers and any anti-synthetic task forces who make inquiries.”

“You’re certain these weapons will _work_?”

“The consensus seems to think that their heretical brethren will only increase tensions against them. It might even motivate Council space to move against them, a fight they cannot hope to win.”

“Transfer the blueprints to me, Councilor,” Sparatus snarled. “My government will go over the designs with a fine-toothed comb and ferret out any duplicity.”

“But of course, Councilor.” Law’s omni-tool flashed as he transferred the data.

“If more ships of that class exist, and these heretic geth are helping Saren to salvage them, they could pose an existential threat to all races under Citadel protection,” Tevos said, calm even as she speculated about her doom. “And that’s assuming that they aren’t simply upgrading their own ships with technology from it. Saren must be stopped, are we in agreement?” The Councilors on either side of her languidly nodded their agreement. “Then, given Saren made attempts on the lives of three other Spectres and a trainee, I theorize that they have the skills necessary to bring him down. He sees them as a threat.”

“Or he could simply have gone insane,” Sparatus grumbled.

“We will know soon enough,” Valern cut in. The salarian councilor looked past the humans and talmi to address the Spectres in the back. “With Vasir, Kryik, Bau, and Vakarian on the case they should all be capable of overcoming Saren’s games.”

“And what about Shepard?” Udina elbowed his way into the discussion. “Her Spectre candidacy --”

“Is of substantially less import than the fate of the galaxy, ambassador. You ought to know better.” Valern narrowed his eyes. “But her skills would be useful, and her exposure to the beacon could help glean insight into Saren’s plans.”

“Or she could be a liability,” muttered Sparatus. He cast a disdainful look on Shepard, who met his gaze without fear. “Human martial skill is… severely lacking.”

“So it is for my species as well,” Valern admitted with a shrug. “Yet there stands Jondum Bau, one of our best and brightest. She’s earned the right to try, at least.”

There was a bit more political discourse between the Council and the ambassadors, but when the meeting ended Shepard was not a Spectre candidate, nor was she a trainee. She was awarded full Spectre status. Perhaps as a joke, perhaps as a Uriah gambit, or perhaps out of genuine belief in her skill. It didn’t matter.

What mattered is she had been given a job, alongside other Spectres -- hunt down Saren and put an end to him.

That left only the matter of Nihlus. The Council decided his zombie had exhausted its usefulness and so had to be destroyed. Since none of them were willing, Shepard stepped forward before Nihlus’ friends had to do it.

The undead creature thrashed, strained against a holographic muzzle that kept his mouth shut, and glared at Shepard balefully. She lit up her omni-tool and bombarded the living cadaver with a wave of super-cold subatomic particles. Anyone trained in the tech could turn the air-conditioner function on an omni-tool into such a weapon -- it was even the basis of a freeze projectile weapon called ‘cryo blast’. Nihlus’ zombie stiffened as his outer layer froze faster than the internals. Unlike with cryo-rounds, the outside-in freezing caused significant damage on its own. In seconds, Nihlus was a frozen turian riddled with cracks he’d made in himself.

A second after that, his head was caved in by an omni-tool empowered smash from Shepard. Zombies were too durable for a dignified death, and he could still feel pain. It was the fastest method Shepard had available.

“Per Spectre tradition, his remains will be cremated and delivered to his next of kin,” announced Councilor Sparatus. “Thank you for ending his suffering, Commander. You’re dismissed.”

While the politicians scurried away with Anderson to make things happen, Jondum stopped Shepard before she and her squad could follow. “Before we get too far into this, we need to coordinate.” Vasir and Garrus flanked him and met Shepard’s eyes.

“You’re right,” the human Spectre agreed. “Compare notes, find leads, stuff like that.”

“Well, yes, that too. But also we need to coordinate who is paying for what, and set you up with some finances.” Jondum smiled as Shepard looked baffled. “Yeah, we have to pay for everything we use out of pocket. No salary for us, and we can’t ask our governments for grants either.”

Shepard narrowed her eyes and sighed. “Not paying for food, dextro food costs too much.”

“That’s fair.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6: Sell your Soul, get your Due.**

“The quickest way to get an influx of money is to sell some information to the Shadow Broker. Something about yourself, your government, or details about your people’s history,” Jondum told Shepard as they walked through the Presidium. “You’re no longer able to be charged with treason against your government if you go that route.”

“I’m not going to betray the Alliance’s trust in me,” Shepard said with narrowed eyes behind her helmet.

“More than likely, the Alliance has already betrayed the trust you’ve put into them.” Jondum stopped at the midway point of a bridge across one of the Presidium’s freshwater lakes. “It is the nature of governments to think that they don’t answer to their constituents. Our job is partly to remind them of the folly of that thought,” Jondum looked Shepard in the eye meaningfully. “As is the Broker’s.”

Shepard crossed her arms. Already she was ill at ease, as Jondum had asked her to come with him alone. And now he already launched into the ‘betray your government schpiel.’ “Sometimes the truth can’t be known.”

“True. It’s important to ask ‘why’ the truth can’t be known, however.” Jondum frowned and shook his head. “All too often I’ve heard the line ‘it would embarrass the government’ as a defense to something being locked away. The Council are especially vulnerable to this -- which is why the Broker exists.”

“You talk about the Shadow Broker like it’s a part of the Council, rather than a criminal element.”

Jondum shrugged. “It’s a personal theory of mine. I looked at the timeline of events, at what the Broker has revealed and kept hidden, versus the consequences thereof. It is my belief that the Shadow Broker began as a check on the Council’s power.”

Shepard arched a brow at the unconventional thought of her fellow Spectre. “What did you sell to the Shadow Broker? When you first started, I mean.”

“Knowledge that, if known, could spell the utter doom of my government in galactic politics.” Jondum frowned and shook his head. “My species are chronically short-sighted, which does not mix well with our inquisitve minds and keen intellect. The information I sold has been used as a leash to keep them in line, and to listen to the will of their people.” After a moment, Jondum sighed. “Sometimes I envy the asari, and your species. Democracy is a horribly inefficient system, but at least your politicians must pretend to care what the average citizen thinks.”

“Hmm.” Shepard frowned and looked at her feet for a moment before she met Jondum’s eyes again. “I don’t know if I’m willing to do that just yet. Would I be able to get by with selling personal information, or technical data?”

“Of course. You won’t get as much for it, but you will still get enough to get started. For initial investments, the Broker likes you to offer information that can be used as a leash. Something that keeps you from turning into a Saren.” Jondum cupped his chin -- it seemed to be a salarian gesture, though Shepard didn’t get the significance. “Alternatively, the Broker might have a question. Those are always interesting.”

Shepard prayed to whatever god would listen that she would get an innocuous question about pre-Collapse Earth culture and that would be the end of it.

Jondum led the way to the offices of a volus, Barla Von. Apparently the man was an expert at moving money around without leaving a paper trail, and was the ‘go-to’ man for initial startup money and investment as the volus was also a known agent of the Shadow Broker. Mostly the office was large and empty -- server banks lined the walls and a familiar melody played from speakers in the roof. At the far end, seated in front of an elegant metal desk covered in holographic displays, was a volus in a brown environment suit with green stripes.

“Is that bossa nova music,” Shepard asked, incredulous, as she approached the desk.

“Indeed, Commander Shepard,” the volus said with delight. “I find that the calming melody helps with my customer’s moods, and Earth-clan music is so diverse in genres and moods compared to other species’ art scenes, I had many options.” The volus took a deep breath of ammonia from inside his suit. “I’m surprised though, the few Earth-Clan I’ve had as clients can’t even identify it.”

“The genre’s over two hundred years old,” Shepard shrugged. Then something clicked in her mind, she pointed at the volus for a second as she realized it. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

“No, you didn’t.” The volus stood and bowed his head before he returned to his seat. “Barla Von, of the Vol-clan. I’m a financial advisor, how can I assist?”

Shepard looked to Jondum, but the salarian just gestured toward Barla Von and smiled, a mildly patronizing look of ‘you can do it’. “I’m a new Spectre, I’m told you can help me set up investments and accounts to help pay for all the equipment I’ll need?”

“Ah yes, one moment.” The volus brought up a holographic screen and began to type away at it. “Alright, let’s see. Earth-clan income is primarily from the purchase and sale of art, followed by taxation of three relays along the Traverse trade/colonization route. However, there is a growing market of arms manufacturers and medical firms pioneering new technologies. Do you have a preference for where your credits will be invested?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how much I want to invest, first?”

“In my experience, the amount of investment matters less to my customers than what is invested in.” Barla Von took a deep breath inside his suit. “No politician wants to find out their money is being invested into firms they’re expected to serve as oversight for. Not since they started enforcing the anti-corruption laws, anyway.”

“Ah.” Shepard shifted on her feet and began to think. “Can you tell me something about how my money would be invested in those fields?”

Barla Von eagerly went into a lecture about how the different fields would use her investment. The purchase, production, and sale of human art was considered a safe bet -- the galaxy was crazy about Earth’s art. Vids, vid-games, music-vids, traditional and digital arts, architecture, there was always a buyer somewhere in the galaxy that wanted to incorporate some ‘exotic’ human art. She would be making a small contribution to a massive effort, which would be profitable no matter what. If she invested in the relay taxation, her funds would be used to expand sensor grids, the purchase of interceptor ships, and additional staff.

Barla Von emphasized that the taxation was stable mostly because trade and colonization efforts in the Traverse were stable. If that changed, she would be left holding the bag as it were. With weapons and medical developments, however, she could give the final push needed to make some major change or a hit new product. It had a greater degree of failure than the other options, but Barla Von spun her a yarn about how fabulously wealthy the inventor of medi-gel would be if they hadn’t made it open-source.

“I’d like the majority of my investments to be in medical tech, but I’d also like to support the arts,” Shepard decided after hearing the options and their pros/cons. “Something like a seventy-thirty split?”

“How daring,” Barla Von commented, and typed away at the holographic screen. “Now comes the issue of finances. Do you have the money now, or are you here for the standard Spectre induction bonus?”

Shepard frowned, but it was hidden by her helmet. “This is a common occurrence, huh?”

“Quite. Care to partake?”

“...Fine. First, could you see if the Shadow Broker has any questions for me?”

“Of course.” Barla Von physically grabbed his previous screen and moved it aside. A second screen popped up, which he began to type at. “There are some for general Alliance personnel, and some for Earth-clan in general, would you like to hear some of them?”

“Shoot.” There was a moment of silence where Shepard guessed the translator didn’t work. “Human colloquialism, it means ‘proceed’ or ‘go ahead’.”

“And like that you’ve earned about seven thousand credits for confirming that the translators for Earth-clan are incomplete.” Barla Von tapped his holographic screen, and nodded. “Next question….”

A lot of the questions revolved around human culture -- which surprised Shepard since their art and culture was how they kept themselves afloat in the galactic economy. From the questions, she gathered mostly that the galaxy’s consumption of human culture was still in the infatuation phase, and deeper appreciation would take time. She earned a tidy sum answering those questions, but then came the issue of something to volunteer for sale. Jondum left Barla Von’s office, so the value of the information wouldn’t be decreased by his awareness.

Shepard remembered Jondum’s words, and reflected on how desperate humanity was to survive after the Collapse. She didn’t think they would need a leash, but human history was a story of one tragedy after another. Maybe it was best to keep them in line from the outset? She could tell him about the Deep Vampires, human shamanistic tradition, or the advanced weapons and FTL tech the talmi had shared with them. In the end, she settled on a situation that was uniquely human, something that involved the talmi but was mainly the fault of the Alliance.

“Shortly after the talmi helped us escape Earth, and started putting us on garden worlds throughout the Traverse, we approached them about the issue of biotics. The Collective, in conjunction with a genetics corporation called Binary Helix, and a human medical insurance company called Conatix, worked to develop a safe method for creating human biotics that wouldn’t be as a result of accidental exposure.” Shepard swallowed the lump of unease in her throat and ploughed on with the information. “I don’t know about the Collective, or the corporations, but the Alliance’s intent with the program is to turn humanity into a universally biotic species, like the asari.”

Barla Von typed the data into his terminal with calm efficiency. “And how did they aim to achieve this?”

“They make it profitable for young men and women to take a drug trial in the hopes of becoming biotic. It was later revealed that while it didn’t have the desired effect, it does raise the chance of having biotic children substantially. But there is a storied history of governments contaminating drinking water for their own gain.” She took a deep breath and admitted something she knew she would inevitably regret. “And… take note of the present tense.”

Barla Von paused, and looked up at Shepard. “They are aware of the increased risk of developing cancer that such activities would come with?”

“Yeah. I don’t think the top brass exactly care.”

“I see.” Barla Von typed away at his holographic keyboard for a minute more, then turned a screen around to show Shepard a figure with quite a lot of zeros. “The Shadow Broker appreciates your candor.”

\--

Ashley watched the changes happen on the Normandy and felt helpless. Anderson had been removed as Captain, Shepard was given command of the ship, and a fair number of the human crew were being reassigned. Navigator Pressley had come by the mess to talk to everyone about the change, and how the mission they were going on was likely to result in at least some deaths. The Alliance brass didn’t want all their trained starship personnel dying in a firefight, so some of their best and brightest were pulled to add onto the crews of other Normandy-class ships.

They’d wanted to do that to Lieutenant Alenko, but he insisted on staying with Shepard’s command. Even if it meant he had to do so as a private citizen. The LT’s position as a biotic, and one of the few stable L2s, gave him greater weight than a ‘point and shoot’ grunt like Ashley would get in that situation.

Aliens walked the halls of the first human warship worth the name, and Ashley felt ill at ease. This was supposed to be _humanity’s_ ship, _their_ time to shine without the talmi overshadowing them. At least the only talmi that was brought aboard was confined to medical. Ashley could understand how the guy wanted revenge, but he was an invalid until his casts came off, a burden.

Ashley busied herself in the ship’s lowest deck, where the landing craft, storage, and engineering areas were. Next to the landing craft, a massive armored personnel carrier -- the M35 Mako -- Ashley had set up a modification station where the ship’s guns and armor could be adjusted with VI assistance. She also made sure spare parts for repairs and cleaning materials were in arms reach, in case some idiot wanted to mod their gun when it was full of mud. She only needed to experience that once in her career.

The krogan and turian were nearby, she had a good spot to keep an eye on both of them. Word on the street was that the krogan and turians got along like rival gangs.

“So,” the krogan with the flame tattoo on his headcrest muttered when the turian had finished inspecting the Mako. “How did rat-cakes get in the hospital?”

“If I tell you, you’re just going to go up there and give him hell about it,” the turian said dismissively.

“Well yeah. That’s what friends do. Point and laugh at your mistakes if it’s stupid.” The krogan smirked. “So how’d it happen?”

The turian shifted awkwardly on his feet and half turned away. Which in turn let him see Ashley watching them. He immediately looked away. “Maybe we should have this talk somewhere else, Wrex?”

“Nah, let the human listen. She’s pissed off enough -- something to laugh about might just help her _feel better_.” The krogan laughed, a slow purposeful ‘he he he’, like he knew he was being a troll.

“Fine.” The turian scratched his face and shifted on his feet. “We were in a situation down in the warehouse district of Zakera Ward. Some jackass was trying to smuggle a yahg onto the station as a pet.”

“What’s a yahg?” Ashley couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“It’s the love child of a batarian, a krogan, and a salarian all at once,” the turian said with such a straight face that Ashley almost believed him. “Er, I mean it’s a pre-spaceflight species. Council stumbled on them a while back, they massacred the first contact teams, it was a shit show.”

“I can imagine,” Wrex muttered. “So, what happened?”

“I was doing what Sector asked of me, providing overwatch and taking out anyone who looked to be a shot-caller while Sector kept the smugglers too distracted to recover. We picked them off one by one.” The turian flared his mandibles slightly and sighed. “I took a shot that deflected off a a kinetic barrier, deflected off the kinetic barrier the yahg was in, and shot off Sector’s leg.”

“Hold on, shot _off_?” Ashley cut in again, eyes wide.

“Damn Garrus,” Wrex said with a smirk. “Coulda just said you wanted him outta the way.”

The turian sighed. “I didn’t know his shields were down and didn’t think where the bullet would go if something like that happened. And, sans a leg, he couldn’t teleport quite so well. So he got grabbed and busted up his arm punching some Blue Suns thug. Once they were all gone, I grabbed Sector, grabbed his leg, and made for the hospital.”

“Keelah,” said a warbly voice that made Ashley jump. Standing behind her was the quarian Anderson had hired as his last act on the Normandy. The same one they had seen at the clinic, who had the allegedly abusive boyfriend. Sparks, he had called her. “At least they were able to reattach it.”

“How long have you been there?” Ashly asked her.

“I was a debt collector before this job,” she said, and shrugged. “Sneaking up on people is just something I learned by necessity. I’m sorry, I’ll try to stomp when I walk from now on.” Her attention turned back to Garrus. “What happened to the yahg?”

“With the Blue Suns dead, the salarian government offered to transport it back to its homeworld,” Garrus explained.

“What stories it must be able to tell to the other yahg, being abducted by aliens.”

“That used to be a common story back on Earth,” Ashley commented and crossed her arms. “People would say they were abducted by aliens and _probed_. Most people thought they’d just taken something and got too high.”

“We had those back on Tuchanka back in the day,” Wrex muttered. “Salarians would come to Tuchanka, steal some krogan, give ‘em nice guns, and watch what they did with it. We thought they were crazy, and just lying about how good their gunsmiths were.” Wrex straightened his chest armor and turned away from the group. “Now I’m going to go make leg puns at rat-cakes for an hour or so, who’s with me?”

\--

“Alright,” the white and red talmi asked as the doctor eased up on his restraints. “How much did Anderson teach you about soul manipulation?”

Shepard sat on the bed next to Sector’s while they talked. “A bit. He taught me how to inspire myself and others. How to guard against soul-based attacks, and was starting on how to see auras.”

“Alright, good. Are you intending to take the vampire route, or the djinn route?”

“I don’t know yet.” Shepard glanced at Sector’s eyes and noticed how they weren’t the blindingly obvious dead eyes. “I’m guessing you’re a vampire?”

“No,” Sector said, and arched an eyebrow. “I’m just autistic.”

“Oh.” Shepard’s mind was totally stalled by that revelation. “Um. I don’t know where to go with this conversation.”

“It’s fine.” Sector shrugged. “Since I learned telepathy I stopped needing to wear my specs, so a lot of people assume things like that. What have you heard about becoming a djinn, or a vampire?”

“To become a vampire, you need to die and be brought back.” Shepard interlocked her fingers and rested her elbows on her knees. “And to become a djinn, I need to learn how to take pieces of other people’s souls.”

“Yep.”

Shepard thought about it some more, and wondered aloud: “Being a vampire, I take blood from people to maintain myself. Being a djinn, I take fragments of the souls from the people I kill.”

“True. If you become a vampire, you’ll stay ‘you’ forever. But your power won’t grow very much, you’ll just learn how to use it better. As a djinn, you will change over time as your soul bonds with the fragments you’ve collected. Eventually, you’ll make the change into something more.”

“Being an efreet.”

“Yep.” Sector reached under his arm cast a bit to scratch, but had his hand slapped away by Shepard. “Hey, it itches.”

“You’ll make it heal wrong if you do that.” Shepard frowned and considered her options. “Being a being of pure energy would be pretty sweet. I could just think about something and,” she snapped her fingers, “it happens.”

“It’s a lot of power.” Sector arched his eyebrows at her. “And not everyone is capable of it. That what you want?”

“It’s better than being Shattered forever and eventually becoming a zombie, or getting myself killed _on purpose_.”

“Alright. We’ll start with -- “

Suddenly the door to medical opened up and the krogan paid to keep Sector in his bed until he was healed stepped in. “Howzit going, rat-cakes?” He asked, a grin on his face. “What? Not going to stand and greet an old friend?”

The talmi’s ears drooped and he looked at Shepard apologetically. “Okay, we’re going to grab Benezia’s daughter on Arael first, right? Plenty of time to start getting you djinn’d up later. Unless you’re willing to deal with his puns?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. Let her have her _shot_.”

Shepard noddded, and met Sector’s eyes as she stood. “Call me when he’s done.”

\---

Glossary:

  * Autistic: After the talmi returned to the galaxy, their knowledge of the soul allowed for greater understanding of neurodivergence and how it related to the soul. All neurodivergent people are born without soul shells, which means they can manipulate their souls from birth with the proper training. The lack of this training causes varying levels of discomfort or difficulty for the neurodivergent person. Neurodivergent people cannot be Shattered, and thus cannot become djinn -- however, it is possible for them to be embraced as a vampire.
  * Specs: Autistic specs are visors with interpersonal VIs installed. They analyze biometric data to help the person determine the mood and intentions of those they interact with, and even provide a variety of responses or suggestions for facial expressions for those who need it. They are also widely used in the business world.
  * Arael: The third planet in the Enoch system in the Rosetta Nebula, formerly named Joab. It was once the home of an intelligent spacefaring species that went extinct, which in turn caused a mass extinction event. The talmi settled the planet following their liberation and being awarded all the Batarian Hegemony’s territories in the Terminus Systems. Arael is considered the Talmi Collective’s capital planet.




	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7: Lion of god.**

Things were tense in the Normandy’s cockpit. Joker had stick-in-the-mud Alenko on one side, and a salarian on the other. At least neither were trying to do any piloting. Mostly Kaidan just monitored the ship’s support functions and kept the inventory up to date. Boring stuff that Joker was glad to have done. The salarian, Jondum something, was updating the ship’s VI with several Spectre-class cyberwarfare programs.

“You’re sure we’re not spilling Alliance secrets letting him rattle around in the ship’s systems,” Joker openly asked Kaidan as the Normandy approached the Serpent Nebula’s mass relay.

“He’s helping us out by upgrading the ship for us,” Kaidan fired back.

“And if he wanted any information on the Alliance, or this ship, he could have gotten it at any time during its construction,” Jondum added without looking up. “The talmi’s secrets guard themselves. Not so much for the turians, or humans as it turns out.”

“Sure, whatever,” Joker muttered and focused on the relay approach.

“Cyberwarfare is important for a stealth frigate as well. When I’m done, your VI will be able to engage and defend against cyber attacks which could range from simply locking you out to putting your powerplant into meltdown.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“With your prodigious skill in flying the ship, and its stealth drive engaged, it’s possible you would be able to disable five or six cruiser-class ships at least before anyone thought to look out a window in the right direction.”

“Thanks for that…. Huh?” Initially, Joker had started off the retort as sarcasm, but then halfway through he realized he’d been genuinely complimented. People didn’t detail how effectively you could kick ass at something to take you down.

“I understand your disbelief, but I’m a specialist in information and cyberwarfare. I look at the capabilities of this ship, of you, and see how with this addition you could be a terror to deal with.” Jondum continued to tap at the holographic keyboard, and occasionally transferred data from his omni-tool. “Which is why I’m loading your VI with Spectre-class cyberwarfare suites. It’s possible we could neutralize Saren’s geth army if we encounter them in space.”

“Hmm.” Joker navigated the approach to the relay like it was second nature to him, and considered that perhaps the salarian wasn’t so bad. “How does she stack up to the salarian fleets, hmm?”

“From the accuracy of your mass relay jump, the general mobility of this ship, and its stealth systems, I’m reasonably certain that if you took to piracy there is -- to use a human phrase -- _zip-a-dee-do-dah_ any ship in the salarian fleet could do to stop you.”

Joker turned to look over at Kaidan. “Hey, are all the aliens Shepard brought aboard like him? Cause if so, I might start to like ‘em.”

\--

“So, we’re going to your homeworld?” Shepard asked the talmi Spectre when she brought the man his food from the mess. A tray had to be set up so the injured man could eat and not stress his bad leg more than usual.

“Not _my_ homeworld in particular, but it’s home for a majority of my species,” Sector replied and stretched out his good arm so Shepard could loosen the restraint. “Prothean ruins were found on Arael a while back, Dr. T’Soni came to study them and help disseminate any knowledge gained from them to the wider galaxy.”

“If it’s not rude to ask…?” The engineer did as she was implicitly requested, and then lifted the lid on the food.

Immediately, Sector’s nose curled. “Augh, the moment I’m out of this, I’m taking over cooking duty. Flash-cooked meals aren’t worth the moisture used in them.” He took a fork and poked at one of the carrots in the flash-cooked roast beef and sighed. “To answer your question, I was born and raised on Desponia, in Sigurd’s Cradle.”

Shepard sat down in a chair near Dr. Chakwas’ desk, and watched Sector eat. She’d already eaten, hence his volunteering. “Really? I’ve never even heard of Desponia.”

“Most haven’t. Terminus System colonization is way more risky. People don’t publicize all their colonies because then they’d be attacked. Desponia is the equivalent of a farming planet in talmi space, we do a _lot_ of fishing, because fish, shellfish, and cephalopods account for so much of our diet.” He forced himself to eat some of the vegetables from the roast beef, then started on the pre-cut meat. “Eugh. We have traditional farming planets too, but Arael is a mostly-water world. In settling there, we developed a taste for seafood.”

Shepard’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “Wait -- settled? Aren’t your people native to Arael?”

“Well, yes, and no.” Sector shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“More complicated than the human relationship with Earth?”

“Yes,” Sector said, blunt and to the point. “History is complicated, you would be best served by opening an extranet search for this topic.” He ate more of the meat and forced himself to swallow though he clearly was unhappy with the taste. “Bleh. Or ask Wrex, or maybe Tali. Wrex was there for the whole thing, start to finish. And the quarians are partly responsible.” He squinted out the window, where the asari Spectre hung out by the sleeper pods. “Possibly Tela. She’s at least in the matron stage, but I never asked her how old she is specifically.”

“I’m pretty sure if I raised the topic, she would turn me into a scorch mark on the wall.”

Sector made a pained face. “Yeah. She probably would.” The talmi made sure Tela was definitely out of hearing range then whispered. “I’m _convinced_ she and Aria T’Loak are related somehow. Sisters, maybe cousins. They’re too much alike for it to be a coincidence.”

“I… don’t know who that is.” Shepard shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me your understanding of the history?”

“The closest analog would be a vid from two-hundred or so years ago in your culture. Jurassic Park.” Sector cracked open the water tray to wash his mouth out after he tried the creamed corn. “The talmi species is, to be blunt, synthetic. Reconstructed from fossilized remains of an extinct species, with extra features added to make us marketable.”

Shepard racked her brain for memories of Jurassic Park, and she suddenly remembered it. A movie about dinosaurs brought back from extinction who got loose and killed their creators and bystanders alike. Suddenly, she wondered about the ‘bloody hands’ of the talmi flag. “Marketable to whom?”

“The Batarian Hegemony.” Sector said it without venom, which surprised Shepard given the context. “Anyway, the planet Joab was where our ancestor species lived and went extinct. We settled there as a way to try and connect with them, and renamed it Arael. People tend to assume that’s how we developed our knowledge of the soul -- incorrect, but it makes a good story.” Sector leaned back when his food was done, so his restraint could be tightened and Shepard could go on her way. “My contacts on Arael all say the dig site with Benezia’s daughter is being watched diligently, so that means that either Saren will try to get into the site legitimately, through proxies, or he’ll stealth in.”

“Any recommendations?” She asked evenly while she tightened the restraint.

“Jondum and I will provide logistical and tactical support. He’ll run cyberwarfare, and I’ll use scrying to keep an eye on things. Don’t take Tela, she has _issues_ with pureblood asari.” Sector sighed and thrashed his tail. “Benezia is a celeste, someone who uses their soul and biotics together. It’s likely that her daughter has learned the trade simply from proximity. They have this thing called Tone, it’s part biotics, part soul, part attitude. With it they can give an order, and compel weak-willed people to obey it. Up to, and including, ‘die’.”

“Well that’s… terrifying beyond all reason.” Shepard muttered and took the tray. “I’ll make sure that the people I take with me are strong enough to resist. In the meantime, I’m going to process the ‘talmi as Jurassic Park monsters’ revelation.”

“I can only promise that we _don’t_ run at cheetah speed and have sickle claws on our toes.”

\--

“So,” Wrex said while the crew was gathered at the mess hall table. “Tali. Quarians have a planet now -- what’s up with the suit getup?”

Around him were most of the other levo-amino acid folks, while across from him were the dextro-amino acid duo and the _salarian_. Wrex hadn’t given him a pleasant look since he’d seen him.

Tali paused in her meal -- a dextro-protein shake with vitamin enhancements -- and looked at the table. “It’s… complicated.”

“I’m old, not stupid, so just try to use simple words and I’m sure I’ll understand.” He bit into the human vegetable ‘eggplant’, and found the taste mildly familiar. Sorta like varren.

“Well… the quarian government is split on what to _do_ with the planet.” She shrugged. “There are colonists who want to get started right away, and then there are people who want us to settle first on the homeworld or not at all.”

“Huh. They seem stupid. You should eat them.”

Tali shrugged and took a slurp of her shake through a straw. “The split divides our resources so we can’t really do either very well. And then there’s the people who think the planet is a trap by the talmi, since they’re allied with the geth.”

“Tali,” Garrus cut in and gestured at her with her fork. “I’m going to be honest. My people antagonized the talmi at Shanxi and for a solid six months the talmi flags had _blue_ bloody hands unironically. They don’t need a trap to wipe you out if they wanted to.”

“I agree with you. But people are stupid.” She slurped her shake again. “It’ll probably lead to a civil war. And we’ll be stuck in the same position as the humans. Living on talmi charity.” She didn’t sound bitter, Wrex noted. She sounded defeated. Soon, she realized what she had said and in what company, and rushed to apologize to the humans around them for her thoughtlessness.

The human female, Williams, was annoyed by the unintended jab. The male, Alenko, seemed tolerant of it. The other humans, he hadn’t seen enough to guess at their expression’s meanings.

“There are worse things that could happen, you know,” Wrex said, darkly. They all knew what he was talking about. “How did living on the Council’s charity work out for them?”

She held up her hands, “you don’t need to tell me. I’ve been to the planet.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I want to see Rannoch some day, but more than that I want a home. A lot of the younger quarians feel that way too. When my Pilgrimage is done, I’m going to ask to sign onto a Colonialist ship… and probably, my father will never speak to me again.”

Wrex turned his head so he could look at her fully with one of his eyes. “Not a fan of colony life, is he?”

“No. I’d like it if we could change the topic now.”

“Sure. I happen to notice you and Williams use shotguns a lot -- I know a fast reloading trick that might save you in a firefight someday….”

\--

In the dark of drug-induced sleep, Shepard usually was able to escape dreams. But sometimes, the dreams came anyway. She dreamed of the swampy forests of Eden Prime, the clearing where the Normandy had dropped them off. She dreamed of how Jenkins had told her about the planet’s native fauna, gas bags. And she dreamed of the horrible sound Jenkins had made when geth drones blasted him with phasic rounds that cut through his shields and burned through his hardsuit.

She wanted to go to his funeral, but the mission took priority. It felt like running away from her problems.

Suddenly, a wet coldness overcame her dreams. An enveloping darkness hid away the painful scenes. She stood on the surface of an endless expanse of water, the sky churned in swirls of green and blue.

**“Leave the past where it falls,”** said an echoing, deep voice like she’d heard after she encountered the prothean beacon. **“Despairing over what happened will not help him. Nor you.”**

“The dead should be mourned,” she said back to the water, as it seemed to be the only possible source for the dream voice. Probably part of her soul, broken off by being Shattered. Maybe the part that would linger if she became a zombie.

**“Mourning is for the living. The dead should be at peace. Your pain keeps the dead awake, because your pain keeps the trauma fresh. Rest now, and think about this.”**

“Commander, we’re in the Enoch system. Request to pull us into one of Goliath’s refueling stations, top us off and vent the drive core.” Joker’s announcement via the ship’s intercom woke Shepard up. There was no transition from the dream to the waking world. It was as quick as snapping her fingers.

“Request granted,” Shepard said, surprisingly refreshed from sleeping. Usually she had to get up and get physically moving before she’d mentally wake up. Quickly, she got dressed and ready for the day. There was going to be a mission, she needed to be on her A-game. And dreaming conversations so clearly she could still remember them was definitely not. So she did what any rational person would do -- talk to the expert.

Sector’s ears twitched as she opened the door to medical, and he woke up not too long after. “You look vaguely annoyed,” the talmi commented as his way of greeting. “I think. What’s up?”

“You’re the telepath,” Shepard said, indeed vaguely annoyed. “Can’t you tell?”

“Telepathy doesn’t work like that. The mind isn’t a book to be read, it’s a voice to be heard. And I can only pick up on your surface thoughts.” He squinted at her. “Right now you’re thinking I can help, so what do you need help with?”

“Had a dream a couple times now, about this deep voice that talks to me. Turns everything cold and dark when it happens.”

“Oh,” Sector seemed relieved. “That’s good -- you’re communing with the Leviathan.”

“The what?”

“Oh right, that word has some religious context on Earth, doesn’t it?” Sector thought for a moment before he spoke again. “How about the Deep? That’s not religious, is it?”

“One, I’m not of the religion where that word’s important. And two, what is the significance of it?” Shepard crossed her arms and counted the items off with her fingers, her annoyed expression deepened.

“The Deep, or Leviathan if that’s easier for you to understand, is an efreet. It talks to people, usually people who go on to become efreets themselves. Doesn’t do much besides talking, though. And that’s all I know about it because I can’t become an efreet myself, so I never bothered to learn.” The talmi grinned at her.

“...Really? That’s all you can tell me?”

“That’s all I know for now.” Sector shrugged. “You’re going to Arael, maybe talk to an efreet when you’re down there. It’ll be different when this is fixed up,” he gestured toward his leg and arm. “Mental fatigue is real.”

“Alright. Thanks for telling me what you know.”

“Anytime, Commander.”

\--

Arael was a planet defined by two oceans in the northern and southern hemispheres, and a chain of islands with one middling-sized continent along the equator. From the night side of the planet that was visible as the Normandy approached, Kaidan surmised that there were floating cities out on the water. Prairies seemed to dominate the land, with forests only around the edges of the continent. Not a bad planet to look at.

“Commander,” Joker said and turned around to speak to Shepard. Shepard, Kaidan, and the quarian girl they’d brought on -- Tali’Zorah -- were waiting by the cleanroom door for the ship to dock. “Priority message from a ‘Matriarch Aethyta?’ Should I put her through?”

“Go ahead, Joker.” Shepard responded and held her hand up to the region of her helmet over her ear. Alliance hand gesture meaning ‘I’m in a call, be quiet.’ “This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy?”

“What’s an asari matriarch doing on the talmi homeworld?” Tali asked and looked over to Kaidan. He shrugged in response.

“Alright, ma’am, we’ll reroute and get there as soon as we can. Hold tight.” Shepard took her hand off her helmet and looked over at Joker. “Change of plans, Aethyta says the dig site’s under attack by geth! Tell the talmi flight control we’re rerouting to provide immediate assistance.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.” Joker turned back to face the controls and jerked the ship in a sudden swerve out of their approach vector. “Ziva Control, this is SSV Normandy, we’ve picked up a distress call from the prothean dig site. Per Spectre authorization, we’re moving to respond.”

“Come on,” Shepard led the way down. “We’re going to sortie from the loading deck. Vasir,” she said as she brought her omni-tool up, “take Garrus and Ashley, keep the geth off our backs while we extract the civilians.”

“Sure, I can kill some geth,” Vasir responded and closed the channel.

“How did the geth even get onto Arael?” Kaidan asked, his hand already adjusting the settings in his omni-tool to maximize damage against synthetics.

“The talmi trade with the geth -- maybe they got duped into thinking Saren’s geth were the geth that they trade with?” Tali offered.

Kaidan glanced over at her, and saw she had Jenkins’ shotgun, the gauge. An N7 crusader shotgun, modded with sledgehammer rounds. He nodded and accepted the quarian’s use of the equipment without bringing it up. It seemed fitting that Jenkins’ gun be used to kill the things which killed him. Maybe the gun wanted revenge. Kaidan sure did.

All those geth they’d killed on Eden Prime didn’t seem enough. Their white fluids didn’t seem to weigh as much as Jenkins’ blood did, in his mind. Maybe today would be enough, and he could put the Corporal’s spirit to rest.

Maybe, Kaidan thought to himself, he had issues he needed to deal with.

_Therapy costs less than a funeral, Lieutenant,_ the voice of the talmi Spectre echoed through his mind.

As they neared medical to take the elevator down to the engineering deck, Kaidan leaned over to point at Sector through the window and thought unpleasant things at him.

_You think of your mother with that mind, young man?_

\---

Glossary:

  * Desponia: A water world in the Psi Tophet system of the Sigurd’s Cradle cluster. After Arael, it is the most heavily colonized planet in the Talmi Collective, and is the source of much of their traditional food. Most habitats on the planet are underwater in neutrally buoyant floating arcologies.
  * Goliath: The fourth planet in the Enoch system, a gas giant with multiple refueling stations among its satellites.
  * Leviathan: Beast of the Sea in christian mythology, largely believed to be a whale.
  * Colonialist: A political faction within the quarian species that advocates for the settlement of the planet gifted to them by the Talmi Collective. Holds a slim majority of captains, but has only one Admiral as a member.
  * Batarian Hegemony: The governing body of the batarian species, based on their homeworld Khar’shan. Was the last spacefaring species to practice slavery, as it had been considered a vital part of their caste system. Individual batarians may still own off-the-books slaves and operate slaving rings, but the practice is illegal officially.
  * Aria T’Loak: De facto ruler of Omega, capital of the Terminus Systems.




	9. Djinn

**Codex Entry: Djinn.**

(Narrated by special guest, Councilor Tevos.)

Djinn are the people who have gained a stable ability to use their souls and manipulate the souls of others. Most djinn are created from ordinary people – referred to henceforth as ‘sterlings’ – who have been Shattered. Djinn don’t have a soul shell, which allows them to collect the souls of others and combine them with their own. Depending on the specialty of the djinn, this can allow them to gain information possessed by the owner of the soul, or even abilities. Most just gain a subtle personality shift.

There are a variety of djinn ‘categories’, which the talmi codified during their century of isolation. They are as follows:

  * Silk.
  * Blood.
  * Fire.
  * Water.
  * Earth.
  * Air.
  * Life.



Silk djinn deal with manufactured products, they are considered more ‘urban’, and largely assumed to be less powerful than the elemental djinn. They have the unique ability to combine raw resources to create finished goods, or to conjure items from energy-to-matter conversion. Most people who train to be scouts tend to be silk djinn, and their most famous contribution is the needler weapon category. Blood djinn are on the opposite side of the coin, they deal with organic structures and can manipulate their bodies as well as others. The socially acceptable path for most blood djinn is the medical field, and blood djinns are the most common type of djinn among the talmi.

Elemental djinn may or may not choose to control their element, or may opt to express another element in terms of their own. Typically, the comparison is mostly symbolic. Fire djinn are djinn who specialize in the manipulation and perception of energy – heat, light, electromagnetic, radiation, etc. Water djinn are specialists in the manipulation and perception of change – they can shapeshift wholly or partially, for example. Earth djinn are related to blood and silk djinn in that they focus on the material world. Many of the powers of earth djinn can be replicated by mass effect fields, namely the manipulation of mass, momentum, and gravity. Air djinn center around movement, flight, teleportation, telekinesis, and the manipulation of friction are all well-documented powers of theirs.

Life djinn is the official name assigned to the ‘vampire’ class of djinn. At the time of this recording, only humans seem to be able to become vampires. Life djinn are unique in that they can turn off their dead eyes, and have no need to conduct biological processes. They don’t require sleep, air, or food. Their bodies are no longer endothermic, and so long as there is a supply of levo-protein blood available, they don’t age.

Our understanding of the soul, and how it expresses itself continues to grow every day. Its entirely possible for new, unique forms of djinn to have manifested and simply chosen to remain mum on their abilities.

Notable djinn of each category:

  * Captain David Anderson, Alliance Navy – Water djinn.
  * Don Domino Tybalt, Talmi Collective – Silk djinn.
  * Dr. Mordin Solus, affiliations unknown – Blood djinn.
  * Saren Arterius, Council Spectre – Fire djinn.
  * Admiral Steven Hackett, Alliance Navy – Air djinn.
  * Primarch Senec Fedorian, Turian Hierarchy – Earth djinn.
  * Stephen Robert Irwin, human celebrity – Life djinn.




	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 8: Priority: Archaeological Dig Site**

The two squads readied up to land, each on either side of the Mako’s interior. Wrex was in the driver’s seat, and he would be keeping the landing zone clear of geth when the time for extraction came.

“Commander,” Joker’s voice said over the Mako’s communication line, “developments planet-side. I’ve got a geth cruiser on scanners, and the talmi are starting to swarm like bees. All comm channels going in or out are jammed, and the stealth drive doesn’t work in-atmosphere. The geth likely know we’re coming.”

Shepard altered her internal battle plan and glanced at Vasir to confirm she did the same. “Jondum, Sector, anything from your end?” She asked of the mission control operatives for the mission.

“It appears that the geth we’re seeing are under a cyberwarfare attack from an unknown external force,” Jondum replied. “The cruiser’s mass effect field is fluctuating rapidly, as if it is being shut off and on again. What’s more, I speculate that the ship is now out of range for most geth platforms to network with each other with it as a server.”

“There’s an organic leading them,” Sector said. “I’m scrying the troops who are guarding the dig site, a lot of them are glimpsing something that looks like a krogan before they die.”

“Great,” Wrex drawled without looking back. “Another dumbass dragging us all through the muck by association.”

“Wrex, pay close attention to what I’m saying -- it _looks_ like a krogan.”

The old soldier scratched his headcrest and muttered. “Th’hell’s that mean?”

“Approaching the landing zone. Any closer and that geth cruiser could light us up,” Joker informed the ground team. Moments later the cargo bay door swung outward to act as a gangplank.

Wrex revved the Mako to life, and the armored personnel carrier moved forward. It wasn’t long before the Mako drove off the gangplank and fell through the air while the Normandy left them behind. “Brace for impact, princesses!” The old krogan waited well past the point of comfort before he engaged the Mako’s jump jets to keep the APC from hitting terminal velocity. Two more time he fired the jets to slow the Mako down and guide it through the air before it hit the ground.

The interior of the Mako rocked as they made landfall and sped off toward the dig site. The windswept hilly plains of Arael made the drive tumultuous even before they were being shot at. Within minutes of driving, due to Wrex’s reckless speed, the Mako’s cameras got a visual on the geth cruiser which Shepard examined.

It looked like a fat dragonfly without the wings, ironic given Rannoch had never evolved insect life to inspire the design. Three hundred sixty meters long, small by cruiser standards, and alight with static discharge all across her hull. No obvious weapon mounts, which concerned her. Fully-internal weapon mounts would mean it would be difficult to predict where a shot would come from, and predict the range of those weapons.

“I think that’s a geth tank,” Wrex commented. “Hup, shooting at us!” The Mako jumped as Wrex fired the jump jets again. “Dig site’s in a canyon, and I’m seeing more geth tanks along the rim! Going to have to climb down, Shepard!” Any reply was cut off by the Mako’s main kinetic cannon opening fire on the ‘geth tank’.

Shepard refocused the Mako’s cameras to look at it. The tank was a walker, mounted on four legs with an almost giraffe-like neck atop which sat a glowing eye on a tubular head. Its kinetic barrier had been blown by the Mako’s gun, as static discharge indicated. She never got to see its weapon, as it was rendered inoperable metal by the Mako’s next round.

“Every geth you kill makes the others lose intelligence and ability,” Tali commented from beside Shepard. “The more you kill, the easier it gets!”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Wrex commented darkly. “Alright, the tanks are moving toward where I killed that first one.” He swerved the Mako through the dirt and had it drive perpendicular around the edge of the canyon. “Alright, here, it’s straight down.” He stopped the vehicle, and popped the hatch for the ground teams to get out. “While you’re all killing geth down there, I’m going to tear these tanks a new ass.”

“Geth armatures don’t have asses,” Tali said, a bit confused. She waited for Garrus to leave first, then clambored out afterward.

Wrex’s response came via the communicator. “Then this will be a geth holiday going forward. The great Ass Tearing, has a ring to it!” As soon as the last of the ground team was off, Wrex sped away in the Mako. It wasn’t long until they saw him boost across short gaps in the canyon to blast at one of the walking tanks.

“Let’s get going,” Shepard announced and drew her pistol to advance down the cliffside. She heard some misgivings about how to get down but quieted them with a demonstration. Her omni-tool lit up and speedily fabricated a silicon-carbide three-pronged hook held in place by a magnetic field. She promptly jumped off the edge of the cliff and dug the manufactured tool down into the rock. Once it was set, she simply rappelled down a bit as her omni-tool manufactured holographic rope to connect to the hook.

“Huh,” Vasir commented as she watched. “Looks neat.” She turned to Ashley and Garrus. “I’ll go down and clear Garrus out a sniping position, once he’s set up, Williams, you and I will flush geth into kill lanes for him. And if you shoot _my_ leg off, Vakarian, we’re going to have a short but _intense_ three-round-burst discussion, understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Garrus said, with his gaze downward.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Vasir lept off the cliff and enveloped herself in a mass effect field to glide down to a rocky outcropping, then repeated the process until she was further down the canyon wall than even Shepard. Meanwhile Tali and Kaidan replicated what Shepard had done with her omni-tool then loaded the configuration to Ashley and Garrus’.

In the distance, the Mako jet-jumped sufficiently to do a flip before it shot a geth walking tank.

\--

If Aethyta lived through this, she decided, she was going to slap Tevos so hard the Citadel would stop spinning. She’d been there when they decided the geth weren’t a big deal, they didn’t need anything done about them, and that the talmi cavorting with them was something they could tolerate. For a few hundred years, it was good. But, inevitably, like every problem the asari decided to ignore, it came back to bite them in the ass.

She’d spent all day holding armored doors closed with her biotics while asari commandos, good Eclipse girls, and Collective troops died outside. They put up a good show, for being caught with their asses hanging out as they had been. Aethyta paced in front of the huge double doors like an animal in a cage. Any time the doors moved, either from one of those giant geth or the krogan _thing_ trying to brute force it, or the systems being hacked, she’d put a stop to it. But she wasn’t a commando herself. All she had to defend herself was a talmi [plasma pistol](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/halo/images/c/cc/H2A_Render_CampaignPlasmaPistol.png/revision/latest?cb=20150613014916) which a Collective trooper had tossed her.

That and a thousand years of bar fights and biotic power to throw around.

Liara had been able to help for a while. And kudos to her, the kid was able to pull her weight for a while. Not many maiden stage asari could even get that far. Aethyta was so proud of how she didn’t even hesitate -- just asked what to do and went to work. The girl was almost passed out from the strain, leaning on the prothean pyramid the talmi had dug up. All around them was roughly hewn stone, the area around the pyramid had none of the metal floors or support beams like other areas of the dig site. All they’d have for cover were a few damned crates.

Goddess, it was just like that time on Ilium again -- only this time Nezzie wasn’t around to save the day. At least she’d gotten a message out before the geth jammed the comms. She’d lucked out, an Alliance ship was in range -- all the Collective frequencies were already jammed.

The ceiling shook, something far above caused a tremor.

“They haven’t started to dig through the rock to get at us, have they?” Liara asked after the dust settled. The girl looked very much the part of an asari scientist, dressed in a form-fitting green asari-style labcoat. She hadn’t recovered yet from caloric deficiency caused by too much biotics use, but she tried to stand up.

Aethyta put a stop to that right away. “Hey, hey.” The older, purpler, asari held her hand up and gently pushed the girl back down. “You need to rest. Recover. Someone will come.” Goddess, she hoped she hadn’t just lied to her daughter. “And if no one does, I’ll buy you time to escape. You hear me?” Aethyta made Liara meet her eyes, to try and hammer home the point. “Worse comes to worst, you save yourself.

“B-but Matriarch Aethyta -- “ Liara didn’t know about Aethyta and Nezzie. She didn’t know that her father had come on the damn dig to muster up the spine to talk to her. She looked at Aethyta and saw a gracious asari elder, there to help her.

“If the next words out of your mouth are that _I_ should save _my_ self, I will slap the blue off your face.” Aethyta sighed and hated herself for talking that way to her daughter. “I came here to see _you_ at work, I came here to support _you_. And I’ll do that, even if I gotta jump on a damn albino krogan, you hear me?”

“But… why?”

Aethyta wanted to say ‘because when there was work needing to be done, you got off your ass and did it’. She wanted to say ‘because Benezia should’ve been here’. She wanted so desperately to say ‘because I’ve only known you for a week and already I love you so much’. Instead she said, “because in this matriarch’s opinion, you’re the best damn thing that’s happened to the asari in a generation.”

Liara was visibly confused. “But, I’m just -- “

Gunfire erupted on the other side of the door. Aethyta was on her feet with the plasma pistol drawn and ready. Geth made a horrible scream when they died, and Aethyta heard a lot of it. There was also a _lot_ of grenades that went off. So much that she was afraid they’d collapse the ceiling for a minute. From the sounds of the gunfire, she could hear an N7 Eagle, an N7 Claymore, and an M5 Phalanx. All human weapons, which gave her hope.

She couldn’t tell how the firefight was going by sound alone. Hundreds of years in bars might let her know most guns from sound alone, but unfortunately her skills stopped at ‘hear gunfight, stop gunfight’. Since none of the geth had used grenades before, she hoped it was going well.

Then came the silence. After a gunfight there was silence as people got used to guns not being shot repeatedly. Once her hearing was back to normal, she could pick up boots on metal approaching the door. Aethyta enveloped herself in a mass effect field and braced to hold the door closed.

A knock, then another. A human’s voice called out. “Matriarch Aethyta? Commander Shepard of the Normandy here to escort you, Dr. T’soni, and any survivors out.”

Aethyta said nothing, and waited.

“The password is ‘blushing blue buttcheeks.’”

Relief. She didn’t even care how incredulous Liara looked at the choice of password, she just used biotics to force the doors to open enough for them to leave.

\--

Tali was so alert watching Wrex watch Dr. Chakwas examine the krogan… thing which had commanded the geth that she didn’t mind how Garrus unbuckled part of her suit to bandage up a wound. She was already running a fever and had a stuffy nose -- she’d taken her next dose of viral and bacterial samples from the colony that morning -- there was no reason to worry about that.

But there was plenty to worry about as Wrex glared hatefully at the krogan on the table next to Sector. The krogan was leucistic, and its armor was gunmetal grey. Its eyes had been glowing blue when it was alive, but the moment it died the lights went out. Its form was twisted, cables ran through its neck and hump, and snaked into its mouth. And from Dr. Chakwas’ reaction it didn’t look much better internally.

“I’m not sure this creature really was alive,” the human doctor said at last. “There’s just… so much of the organ redundancies replaced with implants. These cables wind around its bones in places. And the brain is quite obviously a computer of some kind. Really, this looks like whatever was done to the colonists on Eden Prime, but to a krogan.”

“Is there anything that could identify him?” Wrex said, and gave a gender to the nightmarish creature. “Scars, tattoos, anything?”

“No, and that’s the troubling part.” Dr. Chakwas disabled her omni-tool’s scanner and walked over to begin data entry on what she’d found. “The victims at Eden Prime had scarring from being impaled, there was even scarring around the areas affected by the change. But they also had identifying marks from their time before.” She gestured to the krogan thing then continued to type away. “But that thing… the process that was done to it is much more refined. Like it was done over the course of its life.”

“Sector,” Wrex said, for the first time referring to the talmi by his name. “You had better tell me what the hell the geth did to this guy or -- “

“The geth didn’t do that,” the talmi said, irritated. “Saren’s geth might’ve, but I don’t know anything about them beyond what I’ve heard secondhand.”

“Well, either way the Commander wants us to head back to the Citadel to drop the cadaver off,” Dr. Chakwas announced. “The Council is _troubled_ by these developments, it seems.”

“How’s Shepard? She seemed… off, when we got to the ship,” Tali ventured, and looked at people in the crowded med-bay in sequence.

“Shepard’s probably just making the change into being a djinn,” the Spectre said as if that made sense. “She’ll go through a few internal struggles, integrate the souls of the dead she absorbed from the battlefield, go catatonic as if she’s dead for about an hour, come out of it with some new powers and all that goodness.”

“You shouldn’t be so _blase_ about this, young man,” Dr. Chakwas scolded.

“Eh, everyone’s been dead a little bit in their time,” Wrex flicked his hand dismissively. His eyes never left the dead krogan cyborg. “As long as she doesn’t set anything on fire, we’ll be good.”

“Wait, so when you become a djinn, you _die_?” Tali looked around and hissed as Garrus rebuckled her suit over her bandaged wounds.

“Only on the inside,” Garrus explained. “That’s why they’re called ‘dead inside’.”

Tali’s suit picked up on subtle sounds in the storage room behind the med-bay. She’d been on the flotilla enough to know the spikes and valleys associated with ‘trying to cry quietly’. “I bet that’s what she must be feeling,” she muttered to Garrus. “She’s not a warrior, she doesn’t look like she’s held a gun her whole life. And now all her friends and coworkers are dead. If we’d been much slower, she’d be dead too and she knows it.”

“We don’t know that they weren’t going to kidnap her….”

Tali locked eyes with Garrus and tried to be patient with the foolish man. “Let me tell you, as someone who’s had to deal with pirate and slaver raids before. Nobody brings a _Kishock harpoon gun_ to a fight if they want to take someone alive.”

“Yeah,” Wrex said in an obviously faked ‘oh, sudden realization’ tone. “They deployed a cruiser full of hostile robots, including tanks, who viciously murdered a bunch of people, but they definitely were going to take the kid alive. That’s a thing that _Saren_ is known for, right? Taking people alive?”

Garrus’ mandibles twitched. “Well, he might have if killing her would anger Benezia….”

“I have literally never known Saren to take the option that doesn’t involve at least one murder,” Sector commented, deadpan.

“That’s true of Wrex too, you realize.”

“Yeah, but when I do it, it’s funny.” Wrex continued with his fake ‘oh, sudden realization’ tone. “Cause I’m ‘quirky’, and ‘fun’. And I know better than to get mixed up in whatever the _hell_ does _this_ to people!” He abandoned his faux tone and gestured at the krogan cyborg on the table.

“Could you keep the shouting to a minimum?” Dr. Chakwas demanded, her tone sharp.

“Sorry, doc.”

\--

After everyone else was gone, and it was just Sector and the dead krogan, the talmi listened. He heard the matriarch and the maiden asari talk in the storage room, his ears were too big not to. “Near,” he said, soft. “What is the current time on the Citadel?”

Sector’s abdomen wriggled a bit as his cybee climbed out of his pouch. Cybees were made to look like cloth dolls, made from flexible metallic silicone with faux fur hair. Near was modeled after a punk rocker, with blunted spikes on his wrists and shoulders, a red mowhawk, and old-fashioned sunglasses.

“The time on the Citadel is five minutes until the seventeenth hour,” the cybee replied and chewed on a stick of compressed plant fibers painted to resemble a cigarette. “Somethin’ you want done back there?”

“Could you call Calpura for me, please?”

“Linking up with Normandy’s comm system… approved by Jondum Bau.” The cybee adjusted his glasses which projected a simplified image of an asari teen, younger than Liara but not by much.

“Abba?” She said, confused and emotional. “Did something happen? Is mom okay?” The poor girl sounded panicked.

“She’s fine, Calpura. We’re on our way back to the Citadel. I wanted to know how you are.” Sector’s ears drooped as he talked, aware that she didn’t have an obligation to call him ‘abba’ anymore. Nihlus was her father, he was just Nihlus’ new significant other.

The teen took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m staying with bubbeh, until grandma and grandpa can get off of work to come visit.”

She was staying with his mother? Sector sighed. “I’m… sorry I didn’t call before.”

“Mom told me the Council wanted you on the mission, we talked about it. I understand, abba. But it would have been _nice_ if I had you explain it to me, too.” Calpura frowned, which distracted Sector from how much she sounded like his mother at that moment. “But… you’re still in your casts, why did they want you to go on the mission?”

“I can’t tell you that, sweetie.” Because he didn’t know. Perhaps they had expected Shepard to stop by Omega and get some Citadel-illegal glitter to fix him up faster, as Sector had planned, but Shepard didn’t.

Calpura made a forced-smile face. “That’s what they said about what happened to dad, when I asked. All they told me was how to pick up his… his remains.” The century-old but still young asari looked away from the hologram and took a deep breath. “He just… left, and now he’s gone. Just like you could be gone, or mom. The Council could just… send you to your deaths, and we’d only find out if they were in the _mood_ to allow it.”

“That’s how its always been, dear.” He tried to be gentle, she’d just recently lost her father.

“Well -- not anymore.” The young asari turned and stomped her holographic foot. “You and mom, you do your damndest to come back home alive -- and bubbeh _said_ I could curse when I told you that, abba!” She held up her finger to him when he was about to scold her for language.

“...Okay. I’ll do my best, and I’ll make sure your mother calls you so she can tell you how she’ll do her best.”

“Alright. Now, um,” Calpura wiped her face on her hand. She’d clearly been crying, but the hologram didn’t pick that up. “I need to re-do my makeup. So….”

“ _Why_ do you need to redo your makeup?” Sector’s ‘abba’ senses picked up some fuckery and he narrowed his eyes at Calpura.

“Abba, bubbeh took me to a matchmaker since I’m all grown up now, and well, she found me a nice talmi doctor.” The girl had gone from emotional and confrontational to shy and exited in only the way young people could. “I don’t _think_ anything’s going to happen but -- “

“Whoa whoa whoa, what? A matchmaker? You’re only a hundred and one, you have your whole life ahead of you -- what about college?”

“Abba.”

“Who is this guy? Does he come from a good family? Does he have a savings account? Does he have all his vaccinations?”

“Abba. It’s just a casual thing, something to take my mind off of all _this_ ,” she gestured around her. “I’ll be fine. It’s my first time dating, I’m going to be super-awkward. Nothing to worry about. And to answer your questions -- yes she does, all three.”

“Alright, alright. Go on your date, leave your poor old abba to wonder if you’re getting beaten up in an alley on the Citadel. You’ve got places to be, I’ll see you.” They tossed guilt-laden jabs at each other like they’d do when Calpura was younger until she finally hung up.

It was nice, for just a little bit, to forget that lives were being ruined by Saren and the Council in equal measure. It was nice, for just a little bit, to not be a Spectre -- just a parent.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 9: Dead Air**

A child locked in a room until they were grown was never going to be sane. That’s what Shepard came to realize as she wrestled with the piece of the krogan’s soul. It was all anger, feral need to claw and tear, and desperate to move. Nothing like the cold, calculating creature they had fought. The soul of the krogan who knew how to shoot grenades mid-air so their momentum stalled couldn’t have been so maddened.

He didn’t even have a name.

After she got back to the Normandy, and had to make her report to the Council, she was able to be alone in her quarters and grapple with the terrible soul fragment as it mingled with hers. It didn’t have a lot of memories -- just one. After Shepard’s bullet ruptured his last heart, and his life began to end the feeling of chains wrapped around his bones ended. He could see for the first time. As he died, he had a moment of rapturous joy -- freedom. Freedom in death.

That dredged up bad memories Shepard hadn’t wanted to face again. Eden Prime. Akuze. Mindoir. Earth. She could barely remember Earth earlier, but with the krogan’s soul mingling with hers the memories came rushing back. The constant walking northward into Russia, leaving the irradiated and sweltering ruins of India behind them -- to live only in stories told by her mother and grandparents.

Earth was the closest she’d felt to the krogan soul fragment. Trapped in a situation she didn’t ask for, with nothing that she could do but rage internally. Earth died all around her, and she was chained to it, so she would die with the planet.

A wet, cold sensation overcame her as she sat on her bed. An enveloping darkness clouded her vision.

**“The base of the spine, the start of the journey. Roots, the physical world, fear. What do you fear?”**

“Chains,” Shepard responded automatically as if it were normal. The words were echoed in the voice of a krogan who had never spoken for himself.

**“A chain can only hold you if it is stronger. If its grip is tight. You can slip free, or break its hold. Consider who holds the chain, and how quickly the situation can be reversed.”**

Shepard wanted to pursue the idea of slipping free, while the krogan wanted to break the chains. But when the echoing voice of Leviathan made them imagine reversing the balance of power on the chain, it made them pause.

**“Too often, those who throw chains on others fail to think of how they are bound. Too often they see the binding as one way. Think on this, and let your soul ferret out the information if this is the power you seek.”**

The cold remained, the dark remained. Shepard felt awake, but she couldn’t move. The soul of the krogan cyborg started to settle -- soothed by the image of using the chains that had bound them to choke their former masters.

Shepard imagined choking the politicians and corporate executives that had made Earth, her home, a chain to bind her. The krogan imagined the thing which pulled on the cables around his bones. They drifted closer together as they imagined faces turn purple for want of air, and the last sudders of death.

Eventually, the darkness began to fade, and Shepard could move again. She could still feel the krogan’s soul mixed with her own, but the distinction between the two began to blur at the edges. The rabid, mindlessly angry intelligence it had possessed began to fade away with every breath.

What concerned her was how rapidly and how severely her skin had changed pigment. All djinn had their skin change colors to reflect their power -- only vampires retained their original pigment. Anderson had the ability to change his through shapeshifting, while Admirak Hackett was only marginally darker than he’d been before, or so she’d heard. Shepard’s traditional Indian skin tone had changed to ice blue -- clearly, she had transitioned into a water djinn.

“Well, it’s better than pink,” Shepard muttered.

\--

When the Normandy docked once more with the Citadel, there wasn’t any immediate rush to go ashore, as it were. Shepard had said she’d grant shore leave, but that there was some paperwork since technically she wasn’t Alliance Navy anymore. Spectres weren’t permitted to hold rank within their species militaries or governments barring extreme circumstances, so the use of ‘commander’ for Shepard was largely to convey respect.

Ashley didn’t mind. There weren’t a lot of things she wanted to do on the Citadel, so she didn’t imagine she’d have left too quickly. She watched the Spectres walk off with the krogan corpse, and left the invalid behind. Vasir, Ashley had decided, was alright. They’d watched out for each other killing the geth, and Vasir also used a vindicator assault rifle. Ashley could look at her, and imagine that she would act a lot like Vasir if she had biotics. There seemed to be mutual respect based off their similarities. Garrus was harder to think highly of, he was a turian, but he’d provided nice overwatch during the fight.

The other aliens on the ship were just… okay, except for the invalid. She would have to see him on the battlefield before she thought much of him. Even the civilians they’d picked up were alright. That asari matriarch knew how to mix a damn good drink, the doctor was quite grateful and complimentary.

It surprised Ashley that, when the Spectres had gone ashore, the asari doctor stayed behind. “Excuse me,” the freckled asari -- her name was Lee-something, but Ashley couldn’t remember -- asked with a demure bow after she approached Ashley’s workbench.

“You don’t need to ask anyone’s permission to leave,” the human soldier said, forcing her voice to be kept neutral. “We might ask you to sign some NDAs in the mail, but you’re free to go whenever.”

“That’s not -- I don’t mean to sound ungrateful -- that’s not what I wanted to ask about.” The girl was clearly trying to work up the backbone to ask something, so Ashley let her. She stopped her work on a new assault rifle barrel, and gave the girl her complete attention. “I wanted to know if I could help.” Lee-something met Ashley’s eyes at last. “I’m an expert on the protheans, and this all started because of a prothean beacon. I wanted to know if it would be appropriate to offer to help, before I risk embarrassing the Commander. Tali’Zorah mentioned something about an Alliance alien-integration initiative?”

Ashley crossed her arms and looked the girl up and down. “It’s not for me to say, but I got a question for you before I give advice. Can you Tone?”

“Can I what?” Lee-something seemed shocked and blushed a vivid purple at the question. “Um. No. Tone requires an understanding of the nervous systems of other species.” She stuttered, and looked over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being eavesdropped on. “Without studying other species’ nervous systems medically, asari can cheat by, um, melding with someone from the species.”

“What’s that mean, melding?” Ashley’s eyebrow arched. She wanted to be content that her translator wasn’t picking up lying body language from Lee-somethting, but the gap in her knowledge made her question it.

“M-melding is when asari link with another species’ nervous systems, to convey complex information, share memories, or… or mate.” The poor girl had so much blood in her face, Ashley wondered if she’d faint.

“And you haven’t ‘melded’ with a human before?”

“N-not with anyone. I’ve only studied emergency medicine across multiple species, never anything related to their nervous sys-tems.” The stuttering cropped up in weird places, perhaps due to the asari’s native language.

“Okay, then I think you should get that fixed.” Ashley uncrossed her arms and gestured to the elevator. “Either go talk to Dr. Chakwas about it, or go have -- I cannot _believe_ I am saying this -- a wild night at Chora’s Den or someplace. Having the ability to Tone people will save a lot of lives that would be ended in firefights, and help us resist any celeste we happen to come across.”

“Oh, you,” Lee-something scratched her head-tentacles in a way her translator said was indicative of confusion, “you… want me to be able to Tone?”

“It surprises me too. But if Saren’s got more krogan like that thing lying around, we need something that can help take him down. Biotics are good, guns are good, soul powers are better.”

Lee-something left the conversation shortly afterward, and seemed to go the route of asking Dr. Chakwas for help, rather than a night of partying. Ashley felt dirty for advocating a night at a glorified whorehouse, but if it helped the asari it could be tolerated.

Right as she was about to get back to work, an Alliance requisitions soldier she hadn’t seen before walked up to her with a clipboard and a salute. She was bright-eyed, had long hair in a ponytail that likely went against regulations, and had pronounced lips. “Gunnery Chief Williams?” She asked, the picture of naval politeness.

“That’s me. How can I help?” Ashley saluted back and accepted the clipboard when it was offered.

“Alliance brass processed your request for new armor. An official apology has been issued for erroneously issuing you field-medic armor, and has issued you a suit of assault armor from the Cerberus manufacturing company. Congratulations, these are meant for shock troopers.” The requisitions officer seemed genuinely ecstatic and pointed over to where a rectangular metal box was being floated into the Normandy by the resupply crews.

Ashley looked over the armor’s specs in the requisition file, and couldn’t help nodding appreciatively. “Minimum profile, camouflage settings, improved weapon cooling and magnetic acceleration, top-end shields. This is going to help me a lot, thanks.”

“No problem, Chief. And from experience, you can use the camouflage settings to change the armor’s looks without having to paint over anything. You know, in case you grew to like the pink armor.”

“Ha ha very funny,” Ashley squinted to check the officer’s name, “Brooks.”

\--

Jondum was the public relations specialist out of the Spectres. Not just the task force meant to take down Saren, but the entire Spectres unit. Cyberwarfare and information warfare spread out from that. He leaked information about Benezia’s daughter to certain publications who would spread the idea of geth divisions. For too long the geth had been one monolithic enemy of the galaxy that only the talmi could talk to. But if they had discourse, if they had weak points, it would encourage others to think critically on the subject. Naturally, all information related to the krogan was kept classified.

But there had been a troubling lack of information on the geth cruiser. The cyberwarfare attack on it had been orchestrated by the geth already on Arael, to help the dig site by isolating the geth platforms below. Geth on Arael was big news already -- but what Jondum had been able to glean by tapping communication records was worse, nothing. All the geth’s orders came by way of the krogan, who had been fitted with a quantum entanglement device which had been destroyed in the fight. That meant they had no idea where orders came from, or from whom.

None of this was good for publicity. He pondered this as he looked over streams of data, extranet posts, and traffic graphs. Saren seemed almost too competent, while the forces assigned to chasing him incompetent. They needed to improve the public’s confidence in their ability to do this, and thus encourage people to help them and hinder Saren. Freezing his assets and those of Matriarch Benezia would only go so far when those freezes weren’t public knowledge. Credit, or the assumption of credit, would support them for a while.

Thus he went to work, and began to compile possible leads on Saren’s activities and public relations stunts that could help their cause.

\--

Kaidan felt a bit uncomfortable being the third wheel in what was otherwise a Spectre party. Shepard, rocking her new true-blue djinn look -- Kaidan was a bit too intimidated to actually use that joke -- walked ahead of them while Sector floated beside them on a rascal hoverchair. His casts had finally come off, but it would be a while before the talmi Spectre could join the ground team for combat operations.

He’d been in the med-bay when they took the casts off. There was a nasty scar all around his leg just above the knee, but otherwise it looked healthy. Apparently it had been shot off? Kaidan had grown up in the technological boom of post-Collapse humanity, but some of what could be done medically still astounded him.

But that led to the current situation. Sector had asked Shepard and him to help him retrieve items from his ship that would help him, and contribute to the overall effectiveness of the team. After the firefight with the Scouts, the docks had been repaired and cleaned up -- though there was still a cordoned-off section on a much lower level, where the bomb had gone off. Sector’s ship was something he described as a ‘police cruiser’ -- it was a bit bigger than the Normandy, with a rougher look. Her engine nacelles were surrounded by the ring which enabled talmi to use their advanced faster-than-light alternative.

Kaidan didn’t know much about that function, only that vectorspace was involved and that the Normandy had a much weaker version installed.

Sector’s [ship ](https://i.imgur.com/47EJbp8.png)was described as slower and less maneuverable than the Normandy, but tougher and with a stronger armament. Soon, Kaidan would get to see how she looked inside.

As they approached, a section of the ship’s hull pulled away to reveal an external camera. A red light indicated they were being recorded.

Sector advanced to umbilical and activated the comms panel. He gestured with his omni-tool to the panel and talked at the same time. “Sector Kyrik, coming aboard. With two guests.” The last part was added quickly as bow-mounted GARDIAN laser mount jerked up and swiveled to face Shepard and Kaidan’s position.

“Is it standard procedure to shoot unwanted visitors, Sector?” Shepard asked, a bit of an edge in her voice. “With _anti-ship_ weapons?”

“You would be amazed how often people try to steal a Spectre’s ship,” said a vaguely [British ](https://youtu.be/9d545dwY-hM?t=8)voice from the comm panel. “You’re cleared for the cleanroom, glad to see you’re repaired.”

Once they’d stepped through the umbilical and let the cleanroom purify the air and scour them with lasers, the ship’s external door opened up. Lights came on as they advanced through an outright cramped interior compared to the Normandy.

“Where’s the crew?” Kaidan asked as he ducked to get through a bulkhead. The external door led to a main hallway that seemed to extend the length of the ship -- up to the bridge and down to several other rooms. A ship bigger than the Normandy ought to have had a similar crew number, but when they traversed the ship it was full of specialized stations for different forms of analysis, storage, or personal enjoyment.

“This police cutter has been refitted so that most of the internal systems are maintained via automated systems. LOKI mechs are on hand for anything requiring physical manipulation.” Again, that vaguely British voice from the comms.

“What are we grabbing, Sector?” Shepard, the picture of professionalism, asked.

“Loadout number six-two-six,” Sector ominously replied and led the way down the hallway.

“I’ll prepare loadout six-two-six for you at once,” spoke the voice again.

“Who _is_ that?” Kaidan asked, out loud. “Your butler or something?”

“That’s Gamble, he’s a friend, and my main contact with the geth consensus,” Sector explained. They arrived in what looked like the ship’s armory, where rows upon rows of guns and armor stocked, ready to go. “This is where I keep my backups, or extra in case I need to arm a village or something. That’s always fun, passing out guns to people so that the pirates or slavers have a _fun_ surprise when they come for round two.”

Machinery moved in the armor, and deposited a rectangular crate down on a flat cart floating via mass-effect fields.

“If you see a gun you like, help yourself. I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Shepard immediately went looking, so Kaidan guessed it was appropriate to do the same. “Is Gamble… a geth?”

“A single geth program has the equivalent intelligence of your average calculator,” Gamble drawled. “Now, a thousand or more geth would equal my design specifications. I am a bluebox artificial intelligence.” Additional crates were laid down on top of the first.

“Aren’t those illegal?”

Sector nodded, and reached into his pouch to produce that weird doll assistant. “Near, could you get me a to go bag? Thanks a bunch.” The cybee floated off into the ship, and left the true sapients alone to talk. “Like most things with the Council, they allow things which are useful. Gamble’s associations with the geth make him useful, because he can ‘spy’ on them, and come back with information the Council finds valuable. Also, the nature of his creation amused them enough to let it slide.”

Shepard stood up, holding an almost organic-looking shotgun. “You’re serious?”

Sector spun around in the rascal and nodded. “Tevos and Valern consider Citadel laws to be convenient cudgels or guidelines, rather than rules which limit them personally. Sparatus is the typical turian, so he was against it. Also, geth plasma shotgun? Good choice.”

Kaidan had learned to guess at Shepard’s expression even though she typically wore her helmet on ‘official business’. From his reading, he guessed her to be dismayed.

“I didn’t think the Council would be so corrupt.”

“Why?” The talmi’s ears perked up and his head pulled back, stunned. Sector said it without malice, just genuine surprise and curiosity, and that hit Kaidan in the gut.

“I guess… I guess I’m too used to governments who are answerable to their people.” Shepard’s reply was another punch in the gut. “I guess I expected them to hold themselves to the same standard they hold me.”

Kaidan looked down at the gun he had picked up. The tag described it as a salarian STG pistol -- the scorpion. He distracted himself from the horrible helplessness he felt from having to live in a galaxy with two sets of rules. One for people with power, and another for those without. The graceful curves appealed to Kaidan’s sensibilities enough that he could lose himself in their elegance.

“Wait, what?” Sector laughed. Goddamnit, he laughed. “They’re being this hard on you because you’re new. And you’re from a species they don’t want to give the time of day to. But you being a Spectre means they do have to answer to you.” He smirked, and leaned back. “Because, while you’re a Spectre you can access any information in their network. Literally. There is no decision of theirs you can’t review, and use to inform your decision making. Such as ‘do I make saving their lives, or doing my job the priority?’”

That was a small bit of relief. Shepard could bring justice to them if they got too out of control.

“Politicians have this thing where they conflate their position with their personal identity. Remind them that they too are just cogs in the machine, and they’ll become extremely helpful to make themselves forget.”

Shepard checked out the plasma shotgun some more. She turned to Kaidan and flicked her head back toward Sector “So, if he can get away with an AI on his ship, what do you think I can get away with?”

Kaidan, a bit concerned with how Shepard’s attitude might play out in the future, decided to low-ball what he thought a capable and decorated soldier could earn. “Well, you could always hang up on them every time they call.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 10: Death Sentence**

The asari embassy in the Presidium was legitimately palatial, at least in part because it was combined with the Councilor’s palace. The graceful curves of Thessian architecture were on display, statues of the heroes of Lusia littered the gardens, flowering vines from Lessus decorated the archways which bridged the ‘embassy itself and the Councilor’s personal residence. More than one assassin had taken a shot at an asari Councilor as she made the crossing, only to find out that kinetic barriers lined the empty space.

For politically important visitors, there were suites set aside in the embassy section that bordered on luxury, to entice compliance. Politically inconvenient opponents to the Councilor at the time used to find themselves ‘guests’ there for prolonged periods. Matriarch Aethyta was not politically important, or inconvenient, as far as Councilor Tevos was concerned. She was dangerous. Aethyta was an avowed enemy of the status quo Tevos and her predecessors had labored to build for going on three asari lifetimes. And happenstance had put her in a position where Tevos couldn’t lock her away forever.

So, ever the diplomat, the Councilor agreed to meet Aethyta to discuss the even bigger problem -- Benezia.

Aethyta and Tevos were radically different from a glance -- Tevos dressed in the sleek, reflective latexes which were the latest fashion, while Aethyta wore the dusty, muted cottons of a lifetime laborer. Aethyta had a languid walk like most asari, but it gave the feeling of someone on their feet all day who desperately wished to sit -- while Tevos was comparatively stiff and made to mirror the regality of ancient monarchs.

Together they crossed the bridge from the embassy to the Councilor’s palace, Aethyta scoffed at the elaborate gardens on either side, Tevos kept her eyes on the doorway they approached.

Aethyta likely thought that they could talk the moment they crossed Tevos’ doors, but there was still more travel to do. She had to be guided to an expendable office suite, where Aethyta’s temper and biotic strength could be safely dealt with. An elaborate waterfall feature, carved to mirror the skyline of Ilium, occupied the entire left wall and cast a blue light on the room.

Tevos used her biotics to move a chair into position for Aethyta to sit, and took a seat herself behind the desk. Like an executive, she sat at attention and retrieved a stylus to write down notes on the integrated tablet in the desk. “So, let’s get started,” the Councilor said, and made a valiant effort to remain pleasant.

Tevos had opened her mouth to speak again when Aethyta cut her off with a gravelly drawl. “You know, when we sent you to the Citadel to lead the Council, we kinda expected you to actually be a leader.” The two matriarch’s narrowed their eyes at each other. “Instead, I find out the talmi have geth walking around on Arael like it’s not a problem. Instead, I find out that the turians and talmi went to _war_ and this never became public knowledge in asari space? Instead, I find a Council Spectre’s slipped the leash and gone on a rampage through the galaxy. And Benezia’s helping all this happen?”

Tevos didn’t let her irritation show on her face, her expression was a funeral mask of calm acknowledgment of a fellow politician. “Benezia is unmistakably involved in Saren’s geth attacks. We have her on a recording gloating about it with him.”

Aethyta frowned and looked away. She was too personally involved to be totally objective, as Tevos was. “That needs to stay under wraps, I get that. Can’t have the Endless getting up and following Saren’s lead because their Messiah is off throwing her life away.”

“Agreed.” Tevos made note of Aethyta’s agreement on that issue. “Which is why we need to keep you, and her daughter, under observation. As long as Benezia is the Messiah of the Endless, she has their unquestioned support. But with the maiden? She has all the makings of a Messiah-class celeste as well, she’ll split their support. Saren will obviously move against the weak link.”

Aethyta sighed, and closed her eyes, still in profile relative to Tevos. “Going to be a problem, then, considering she signed up to help with the task force going after Saren.”

Tevos almost dropped her stylus, such was her shock. “Well, she’ll have to be dismissed.” But as she said that, she realized how unlikely that would be.

Aethyta gave voice to Tevos’ thinking. “Yeah, you don’t have the authority to dictate to the Alliance who they have in their ships. And with multiple Spectres on that task force, the other Council races will need a good reason. Which you can’t give without tipping them off.”

Tevos squeezed the stylus between her fingers. “The girl _needs_ to be secured,” the white-marked asari decreed. “If both she _and_ Benezia die -- “

“Then Irissa is the only Messiah-class asari celeste for the Endless to latch onto.” Aethyta turned her head just enough for her eyes to meet Tevos’. “With the Endless supporting her, she’ll be able to kick you outta this place, make a bid for the Councilor position herself. And she’ll bring the talmi to heel over the geth issue.”

“She’ll try. She’ll fail. And we’ll be roped into a war because of her authoritarian disposition.”

Aethyta clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You shouldn’t have let it get this bad.”

Tevos realized the house of cards she’d delicately balanced could easily be undone, and allowed herself to huff in frustration. “It was the least of two evils. And if Benezia hadn’t -- “ She took a deep breath to keep her temper under control. Ironic, given she had chosen the room to account for _Aethyta’s_ temper. “If Saren hadn’t let his racism get the best of him, the situation would have continued until a more lasting solution was reached.”

“I see a couple ways to keep the situation under control.” Aethyta turned and outright glared at Tevos. “Tell the talmi to get the geth off their planet, and cut contact. Like every other race has to.”

“And if the talmi weren’t a part of the Terminus Systems, and in possession of the only military strong enough to rival the turians’, I would. But they are.” Tevos met Aethyta’s glare with a carefully crafted plaintive look. “Aethyta, you have no idea how close they are to being admitted to the Council.”

The more rough-and-tumble asari recoiled in shock. Good, Tevos had wanted that.

“If they would stop spending resources and political power on these charity cases, they’d be on the Council already. As it is, I’ve been able to stall their progress by letting them shoulder the burden of fixing the drell, the quarians, and the humans.”

Aethyta leaned forward, onto the desk, and held her head in her hands. “Goddess, Tevos,” was all she could say in the face of such a terrible situation. “Does the rest of the Council have this same view?”

“After their conflict, I wouldn’t think that the Hierarchy would support it, but Sparatus has been more critical of the _humans_ than of the talmi.” Tevos still couldn’t understand why. “Meanwhile Valern sees admitting them to the Council as a way to avoid a war altogether, which I would understand if not for the… complicating factors.”

“But if Benezia dies quietly, before her involvement becomes widely known….”

“Then Irissa is only one of two Messiah-class celeste for them to choose from. The Endless will be split between the two camps, I will have the freedom to leverage the others into keeping the talmi _off_ the Council without provoking them.”

Aethyta shook her head, and Tevos’ stomach sank. “Tevos, I was elected to fix problems caused by the Matriarchs that we won’t live to see rebound on our kids.” The bartender lifted her head out of her hands and glared once more. “You shouldn’t have let the Endless have their private army. You shouldn’t have let the talmi get away with flouting Citadel laws for _hundreds of years_. And you shouldn’t have hidden so much of what was happening outside asari space.” She shook her head, in open disbelief of the situation.

“Aethyta, you weren’t here for the Short War,” Tevos started, and played up her concerned tone. She had to make the maverick understand her position. “And it all happened because of some worthless human colony, Shanxi or whatever the name was.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “But now Benezia is linked to an attack on Arael. If it looks like our government is getting behind her because of her influence with the Endless, or if Irissa pushes them to war, they’ll do to us what they did to the turians. To the batarians.”

“Then we either need to dispose of Benezia quickly, or publicly condemn her actions.”

Tevos snorted. It was a good joke. But Aethyta’s face didn’t change. Oh no. “Goddess, you’re serious. Publicly condemn her, and give Irissa what she needs anyway?”

“You said this situation as it is now was the lesser of two evils, well here’s another two evils situation as a result of that.” Aethyta narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “You either condemn what Benezia is doing with Saren before anyone gets the idea of taking her side, or you push us closer to war with the talmi. What’s more terrifying, losing your position, or the prospect of having to fight a _pissed off energy being_?”

For a while, there was silence between them. Only the sound of the waterfall feature filled the room.

After a lengthy pause, Tevos clenched her fist on the desk. “Damnit. And damn you.”

Aethyta flicked her hand dismissively. “You shoulda expected this sort of thing when you brought me in here to discuss the murder of my ex-wife.”

\--

“Commander, are you sure we should be investigating this?”

Shepard looked over the readouts from the Normandy computers and didn’t respond to Joker’s question immediately. “Getting rid of slavers is always a good thing in my book. Slavers a hop, skip, and a jump from batarian space need to be dealt with in particular. And slavers who find it appropriate to blackmail Citadel diplomats even moreso.”

“Yeah,” the pilot admitted, grudgingly. “But… with a rogue Spectre on the loose?”

Jondum, who rarely left the bridge, cleared his throat. “Nassana Dantius is a prominent asari businesswoman in her spare time. In return for us graciously killing a slaver ‘impersonating her late sister’, she’s agreed to do some polite inquiries on our behalf about Saren’s financial base. We follow the money, we find his support, we destroy it and leave him to wither on the vine.”

“So we’re doing the galaxy a service on the _possibility_ it will come back to benefit us?”

“That’s pretty much how most of galactic society works,” Shepard drawled. “Come on, if they’ve got a ship you can talk smack about their rickety setup once we find them.”

While the Normandy scanned the Macedon star system for any signs of the unregistered ship traffic local com bouys had reported, which had drawn the Spectres, Shepard watched her bridge crew and her mostly-alien ground team interact. Tali’Zorah was in the midst of some regular maintenance of the CIC’s hardware while Navigator Pressley watched her like a hawk. Garrus and Kaidan were at vacant posts to help in the scan, and pull double duty as regular bridge crew.

So far no one had made a fuss about the aliens. But Shepard knew humanity -- eventually someone would get too friendly, or too aggressive, and punches would be thrown. And if those punches were thrown by Wrex or Tela, someone was going to end up dead.

“Uh, Commander?”

Joker’s request drew Shepard’s attention back to the bridge.

“I just spotted an unregistered ship drop out of FTL, it’s got that central tube thing that all asari ships have, but otherwise doesn’t match a profile I know.”

The Commander looked over at Jondum who had already brought the ship up for a records search. “Anything?”

“Freighter with an enlarged life support system,” the salarian responded. He blinked. “Ideal for transporting large numbers of people.”

Shepard eyed the ship and connected the dots. “They just came back from a raid.”

“Or an auction.”

She nodded, and put together a plan. “Joker, get us close and let the cyberwarfare suites take out their propulsion. Once she’s dead in space, bring us up alongside her.” Shepard turned and walked into the CIC. “Ground team, come on. We’re going to do some boarding action.”

\--

On any other day, the idea of using a krogan battlemaster as a projectile anchor to secure a boarding umbilical would have been madness. But on that day, with multiple strong biotics on the field and a rotating starship to work with, it was the most practical solution. Once Wrex was stuck to the asari freighter’s airlock, they used Wrex to slow down the ship’s rotation so that the Normandy could extend a proper umbilical to the ship.

While Wrex recovered from the strain of stopping an entire freighter’s rotation, Tela, Shepard, and Ashley took point through the breach.

Naturally, a number of slavers in flexsuits with supped-up civilian kinetic barriers met them. Armed with heavy pistols, slug shotguns, and assault rifles, they put up a decent fight. From what Shepard could glean from her HUD’s readout, they were made up of batarians, salarians, and talmi. She didn’t know why those three races were working together, but that’s what she was up against.

Jondum hacked into their local comm network to feed the boarding party data.

“Boss says just hold them off!” Someone, a batarian male by the warble in his voice, announced. “She’s unpacking the armed suit!”

“Shit,” Tela muttered. She was across the hall from Shepard, behind crate cover while Shepard was behind a bulkhead. “T’Soni!”

“I’m here,” Liara called from down the hall, behind another bulkhead and wearing Ashley’s old armor.

“Toss a singularity at them, I’ll follow up.” She glanced meaningfully at Shepard. “We need to blitz through them before they get that armed suit up and running or we’re going to be in some shit.”

Liara ducked around the side of the bulkhead for only a moment, enveloped in biotic energy, and waved her arm upward. Shepard didn’t see what it did at first, but her hardsuit’s sensors picked up a gravitic distortion and local comm chatter lit up with cries of alarm.

Seconds later, Tela stepped out from cover, and threw a warp field down the hall. Scant seconds later there was an explosion that rocked the ship, and Tela signaled it was good to advance.

Shepard, Tela, and Ashley took point again as they advanced through the halls of the ship. Kaidan, Liara, and Garrus occupied the middle, while Wrex and Tali brought up the rear and provided support.

“No response from the entry hall line! … Shit, they’re moving up, fall back to the next line of defense!” That same batarian’s voice shouted over the slaver’s network.

“Jondum,” Shepard asked as she advanced to another doorway alongside Tela. “How’s that cyberwarfare suite working out?”

“I’ve gained control of all the airlocks on the ship, they’ve no way to vent atmosphere short of punching a hole in the hull.” Jondum responded, crisp. “I’ve got a camera feed. Confirmed, they have an armed suit -- it’s on a closed network, I cannot gain access. But I’ve also confirmed that they’re coming back from a raid.”

Shepard cursed. That meant they had hostages. “Try to get control of the doors, isolate the slaves from the fighting if possible.” She peeked around to look at the new fight, and found it opened up to a cargo hold with crates placed to act as cover. Suddenly two shotguns blasted off behind the squad, and Liara shouted in surprise. “Report!”

“A talmi pyjak with a tactical cloak tried to sneak up on us,” Wrex reported via the coms. “Tried being the key word.” He left his comm on, but spoke aside to Tali as if he’d turned it off. “Nice going there, Tali. Didn’t think you’d go straight for the head like that.”

“Cut the chatter!”

“Right, right.”

Shepard peeked again and got shot at for her trouble. If her kinetic barriers weren’t military grade, she’d have been dropped. “Sniper,” she informed the squad calmly once she ducked back. “Using a mantis rifle. Jondum do you have a visual?”

“They’re in a spot where the cameras can’t see,” the salarian responded.

“I’ve got them,” Sector’s voice came through the comms. Shepard felt a sense of displacement while her vision suddenly changed. She looked at hands that had three fingers, a mantis sniper rifle, and a long sniper lane with a visual on the door. From that position, she guessed it to be in the corner. A moment later, the effect ended.

“In the corner with crate cover,” Shepard announced. She glanced up at Ashley and jerked her head in the direction of the sniper. “I’ll get him to waste his shot again once my kinetic barrier recharges, you and Vasir light him up.

“Aye aye,” the marine said and swapped from her new geth plasma shotgun to her vindicator rifle.

Shepard waited for her kinetic barrier to fully recharge, then peeked again. Predictably, the sniper took the shot. This time, however, Tela and Ashley stepped around Shepard to light up the corner where the sniper made his nest. While they fired away, the rest of the squad moved up into the cargo hold.

“Shit, Standaka’s hit!” Someone shouted on the pirate network. “Lay into ‘em!”

More slavers with guns peeked around crates closer to the sniper’s nest, two died immediately as Kaidan and Garrus pinged them in the neck at the same time as Tali bursting their kinetic barriers.

Vasir, Ashley, and Shepard got to a long crate with a central position relative to the firefight. Even without her pylon set up, Shepard had plenty of flashbang grenades to help soften up the slavers. As Shepard peeked around cover to suppress the pirates so Wrex could move up, she noticed something in the corner. A salarian with a lot of blood on his chest gasped for air in the corner. With surprising willpower, he raised his mantis for a last shot at Shepard’s squad, his rifle lit up with modded ammunition Shepard couldn’t identify. Rather than risk it, she changed her target and lit him up with her eagle heavy pistol.

The full-auto pistol messed up his aiming to the point where his last shot missed entirely, and tore through his shields until a bullet went through his head. Shepard felt a rush of cold air as a piece of the salarian’s soul was drawn into her as he died. She clenched her hand and white light gathered in her grip, her mind awhirl with numbers to calculate angle, trajectory, and travel time.

A batarian slaver armed with a grenade launcher peeked around the corner and desperately unloaded a salvo of ordinance on the squad. Shepard’s new hallucinogenic math combined with the krogan soul fragment’s desire to turn power against those who held it. Instinctively she rushed out of cover and past Wrex with her hand alight in soul energy. She thrust it up, and a [halo ](https://gamepedia.cursecdn.com/masseffectandromeda_gamepedia_en/thumb/8/85/Biotic_Skill_In_Use_-_Backlash.png/400px-Biotic_Skill_In_Use_-_Backlash.png?version=fc933951528788eb74e372a3f390a2f8)of white light extended about a meter and a half from her hand. When the grenades hit the seemingly empty space between her hand and the halo, a white and blue disk was revealed, which bounced the grenades back with a sparkling white aura around them. Slavers still alive shot at her, and found their bullets procced the same reaction. Worse, on the return trip the sparkling bullets cut through their kinetic barriers as if they had been burst.

The sparkling grenades came to rest around the grenade launcher batarian’s feet and exploded in blinding white light. When the light cleared, there was only a shadow burned onto the wall of the batarian’s figure. Not even a body.

“Nice trick,” Wrex commented as he charged forward to shotgun the last few slavers and wrap up the firefight.

From there they moved through the freighter systematically. Individual slavers holed themselves up in rooms and were dispatched easily.

The last gasp of opposition came from the captain herself. The squad surrounded the second cargo bay where the slaves were kept stored, and came at her from multiple doors. Kaidan, Shepard, and Tali were split among the groups to force open the doors as they’d been forced shut by the captain manually. Shepard’s door was the first one opened, and immediately she, Garrus, and Wrex had to dive for cover as she hit their door with a missile launcher.

The captain was an asari, presumably the politically inconvenient Dantius sister. She was surrounded by talmi chained to posts in the floor, with many having their heads shaved for implants to be surgically added. In a very unfortunately fortunate turn of events, the captives had metal plates adhesed to their mouths, so they couldn’t distract the squad with crying or begging. “You think I won’t kill myself and all these fucking _rats_ before I let you bring me in?!” The slaver captain roared, and fired another missile at Shepard’s cover. The crate scooted across the floor and split, separating Shepard from Wrex and Garrus as they dove for the remaining cover.

Shepard looked around the edge of the crate and flung up her omni-tool. The captain’s kinetic barrier went down instead of the rapid-fire missile launcher like Shepard had hoped. Wrex drew the captain’s next round as he rushed for a support pillar.

Shepard looked at Garrus, then at the captain who had already begun lining up a shot for another missile, then mouthed ‘shoot me’ at him.

Garrus’ mandibles flared as he made the turian equivalent to a ‘what the fuck’ face.

Shepard gathered white light into her hand like she had with the earlier firefight and repeated her instructions.

The Spectre trainee swapped to his black widow sniper rifle, and lined up a shot at Shepard while Shepard adjusted her hand relative to the captain. With an ear-splitting retort, Garrus fired an armor-piercing round at Shepard which promptly deflected off her soul-shield.

A moment later, the captain screamed out in agony as her right leg was shot off in the middle of the thigh, and she wasted her last missile on the roof. Wrex charged her before she could do more than scream in pain, and ended her suffering with a claymore round in close range.

With all the hostiles down, they could begin getting the captured talmi out of the freighter and arrange emergency medical care to get the slave implants out of their heads. From there, the Normandy crew re-routed for the colony world where the slaves had been taken from.

The only downside was that Wrex and Sector didn’t speak to Garrus at all on the trip without making leg puns.

\---

**Glossary**.

  * Short War: The six-month conflict between the Talmi Collective and the Turian Hierarchy. Noted as being the first time the carrier-class of warship was fielded by an interstellar military. Brought to a peaceful resolution by the Citadel Council.
  * The Church of the Endless: A religious group centered around the worship of the celeste. As all asari are biotic and have capacity for soul-power, all asari qualify for worship naturally. Known for zealous and fundamentalist attitudes, a belief in eternal reincarnation, and considering all variants of psychology to be taboo on par with necrophilia.
  * Messiah-class: Celeste are judged by the strength of their soul and how it blends with their biotic power. Messiah-class celeste are considered the most powerful tier, and are thus rare. Messiah-class celeste hold a great deal of authority within the Church of the Endless. Known Messiah-class celeste are: Matriarch Benezia, Matriarch Irissa, Justicar Samara, [REDACTED], and Aria T’Loak.
  * Flexsuit: A term for medium armored exosuits, a middle ground between light ‘softsuits’ and heavy ‘hardsuits’.
  * Year of Fear: Term used to refer to the year-long conflict between the Batarian Hegemony and their rebellious talmi slaves, ended with a decisive talmi victory.
  * Slave implant: Illegal neural implant used historically by the Batarian Hegemony to control their slaves. Causes intense cranial pain at the owner's discretion, or induce a lobotomy on command.
  * Armed suit: A style of armored mech once popular as a cheap weapons platform. Little eezo is used in its construction, so the mech is limited in size and mobility -- this makes it easy to mass-produce. Takes its name from how exposed its pilots arms are during operation.




	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 11: Story time with Wrex**

“So, what are those? On your right arm.”

Tela looked up from modifying her helmet at the workstation Ashley had set up and narrowed her eyes at the human, which prompted the second sentence. Vasir’s armor had tasteful asymmetry in the arms, one had an enlarged shoulder pad, while the other had three tubes clustered together on the forearm.

“Ammunition blocks,” she explained, like it was obvious. “You know, what the guns use to make the bullets they shoot. In case I’m ever in a prolonged firefight for days.”

Ashley recoiled at the thought. “For days?”

The asari nodded and got back to work. For a moment she let the brash and aggressive air around her weaken as she talked. “Sometimes we get sent into impossible situations and are tasked with fixing it. In my experience, the best way to fix it is to shoot the place up.”

“A bit extreme, but I get it.”

Tela wanted to explode on the human, about how she didn’t get it. The days when the Council asked her to be little better than a hitman, or an enforcer, weighed on her. Orders like ‘disrupt the economic growth of this planet’, or ‘remind these politicians about the consequences of defiance’. She hadn’t gotten any orders like that in a while, she was overdue.

Instead she pulled out the old HUD chipset in her helmet and started the process of installing the new one. “Having omni-gel on hand works too, but omni-gel has a lot of uses. Can’t use it to fix a broken ship and load your gun or you’ll waste what you’ve got. Having something you can just pop the gun and slot in helps a lot.”

“A lot of folks forget that these fancy space guns can shoot for a long time, but not forever.”

Tela shook her head, a human who had been part of the galaxy for less than a century had figured out what some soldiers had forgotten. Wonders never ceased. “And it only takes one to end a person.”

Ashley’s face got pensive and she shifted on her feet. “I’m sorry. For Nihlus.”

Tela couldn’t afford to crush the chipset she was installing, so she sharply exhaled through her nose. “He was a stupid man, who trusted Saren and died for it. He’s the one who should be sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“He had a _fucking_ daughter to come back to, a mate who was in the hospital who needed him. People who depended on him coming home. And he goes and gets himself killed in the most _amateur hour_ way under any sun.” Tela’s self-control was enough that she could keep working. But her eyes had trouble focusing from her anger, so it became difficult. Once the chipset was installed, Tela slammed her hand on the workbench.

“Did he have any religious beliefs?”

“He adopted Sector’s religion,” Tela muttered because to her it didn’t matter. “A mix of the batarian pillars of strength, and quarian ancestor worship. From what I hear, it’s pretty similar to the themes and overall ritual to Judaism, so just call ‘em Jewish or whatever.”

Ashley frowned, perhaps she knew something about Judaism that made the comparison inappropriate. Or perhaps she was merely thinking, as she soon spoke again. “God, full of mercy, who dwells in the heights, provide a sure rest on the Divine Presence’s wings….” She went on, and some of the words weren’t properly caught by the translator. It wasn’t something Tela expected of a human grunt.

“Thanks,” Tela said, raw but not aggressive. “If there is a god or whatever, he better listen. Dunno what heaven’s like for turians, but when I get up there I’m going to kick Nihlus’ ass.”

\--

Dr. Chakwas was incredibly proud of Shepard. She’d been through quite a lot, been given power and command after a litany of horrible experiences. And she still had the instinct to offer to help, even when it likely brought back terrible memories.

As soon as Dr. Chakwas saw how many captives had implants already, she knew it would be a long voyage to Therum, their colony. Batarian implants had to regularly receive signals from their ‘masters’ or a pained shock would result. A barbaric way to keep slaves from escaping and from being stolen by other masters. While Dr. Chakwas and Dr. T’Soni worked on treating the physical problems, Shepard had started work right away on finding the frequency to keep those neural shocks from causing more harm.

To her intense surprise, Tali and Wrex also agreed to help out with the work-load. When there were forty-five patients in need of help, she couldn’t turn them away. Tali had next to no medical experience, but Dr. T’Soni was able to tell her the basics of medi-gel application and burn treatment fast enough. Wrex, on the other hand, helped calm the talmi down just by being there.

A bit curious, Dr. Chakwas altered her route of patient navigation to bring her closer to Wrex, who stood next to a bed with a talmi woman with a youngster in her pouch. The poor little one’s head would likely have the implant scars for years.

“...Yeah, I was there for that. You shoulda heard the batarian hierarch as he was bleeding out,” the krogan battlemaster said with nostalgia. “His voice got all high pitched and he was begging, pleading for a loyal slave to bring him a medic. But there weren’t any loyal slaves by that point.” Wrex patted the child on the side of their head. The top would be too sensitive to touch. “It wasn’t okay then, it’s not okay now. Not while I’m alive.”

Dr. Chakwas was a bit concerned with such a line of discussion, and gently cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir,” she acknowledged Wrex was several hundred years her senior, “is that topic… appropriate?”

Wrex shrugged. “It’s what happened. Kid’s old enough to know his people’s history.”

“Oh, I thought you were discussing the events of the mission.”

The talmi woman shook her head. “It was an asari who stole us,” she said.

“Yeah,” Wrex nodded. “I was telling him about how we killed the batarians in charge of Omega during the Year of Fear.”

Dr. Chakwas found herself stalled out by that name. “The… Year of Fear?”

Wrex looked at her sidelong, which didn’t have the same context as with humans given krogan eye placement. “Yeah, did the talmi not teach that in the galactic history lessons?”

“I’m certain I would have remembered it, if they had.”

Wrex clapped his hands together. “Alright, I’ll tell the story tonight at dinner. It’ll be good entertainment, and rat-cakes can comment about how I gloss over ‘vital context’.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Shepard hollered from the clear other side of the room.

“Did her hearing get better, or can all humans hear over the sound of talmi whimpering?” Wrex offhandedly patted the side of the youngster’s head again. “Not being racist, you guys were literally designed to whimper loudly. The quarians did a good job of playing to batarian fetishes.”

\--

At the mess, the crew enjoyed the substantially better food since Sector had taken over the kitchens. Garrus, used to Sector’s cooking, found it a welcome return to normalcy. Humans just didn’t _get_ what made dextro food taste good yet.

“Alright folks, tonight I’m doing a history lesson for the poor humans in attendance,” Wrex said as he hefted a bottle of ryncol into the air and stood from his spot at the table. His food was already eaten, though he left the tray so no one could claim his spot. The krogan battlemaster took a swig of the fermented radioactive liquid and breathed out a fine, briefly flammable, mist. “Some of you might expect me to talk about the genophage, or the Krogan Rebellions, but that’s for another day. When I have _two_ bottles of ryncol to make it hurt less.”

Garrus shook his head and forked his -- for once, done properly -- steamed and buttered illira roots. Around him, the humans had visibly mixed reactions to the impromptu story time -- Kaidan was interested, Ashley was suspicious, Shepard was attentive, while the rest of the crew was one of those while mixed with surprise.

“Today’s story is how the talmi got their hands bloody,” Wrex said, and gestured with his bottle. “Don’t let rat-cakes over there tell you how wrong I am about stuff, I was there!”

“You were in the Attican Traverse for half of it,” Sector shouted back from the kitchen.

“Pointless details! Anyway.” Wrex waved his hands like a storyteller fanning a flame. “This was, oh, had to be five hundred years ago and change. I’m out on Omega, doing freelancer work for the Blood Pack with my brood brother Wreav.” Wrex made a disgusted face. “I’d stupidly forgotten why I don’t talk much with him. But anyway. I was on Omega. Batarians had the run of the place back then. There were so many talmi running around, you could just grab one when you wanted a snack.”

Garrus made face and gestured to his food. “Some of us are trying to eat here, you know.”

“And I’m giving you a point of reference to enjoy how good and non-sentient most of your food is, ain’t I?” Wrex laughed, slow and deep. “Now, the freelance work I was doing had me put the screws to a guy who processed new slaves for the batarians. Ended up having to break both his legs for him to cough up the money. Afterward, the slaves that didn’t have implants in their heads booked it.” Wrex took a swig from his radiation alcohol and belched. “Then, a couple days later, this little talmi girl, so small I could hold her in my hand, she comes up to me and asks me if I could teach her how to kill batarians.” Wrex shrugged. “I was between jobs, so I had nothing better to do. Grabbed some schmuck off the street, got a knife, showed her how it’s done.”

“By the goddess….” Liara muttered and looked at her strange purple stew forlornly.

“I know, I know,” Wrex waved her off like she was levelling valid criticism. “I shoulda used a gun, but guns were expensive back in those days. Couldn’t risk her breaking any of mine.”

“How pragmatic,” Kaidan commented, clearly sarcastic.

“So, a few years pass, I didn’t think anything of it. Some batarian slave masters die here and there, a few slaves go missing, nothing big.” Wrex drank some more of his ryncol. “Then a quarian clan, Tali probably knows it -- “

“Clan Gerrel,” Tali’Zorah added, helpfully.

“Yeah, them. They attacked a batarian colony, or so the stories say. Somewhere in the Traverse -- Pragia! That was the name. Only, thing was, the batarians were all dead by the time they got there. The quarians didn’t so much ‘attack’ as they moved in once the batarians were all dead. Odd, but what can you do?” Wrex shrugged. “Only, the quarians didn’t stay there. They ‘attacked’, and left. Most journalists said they wiped out the colony, but people started to ask questions. And it happened again. And again. Colony after colony, wiped out. Until someone approached me with a job.” The old battlemaster smirked. “It was that talmi girl. All grown up and with scars to tell about how she made enemies. She wanted me to cause a ruckus on Omega, so she and some of her friends could do their jobs. I hadn’t had a freebie come back with paid work before, so I thought ‘why the hell not’.” He took a step forward and pointed with the bottle. “I picked a fight, and made it so bad the batarians locked down a whole neighborhood on me. Had their complete and undivided attention.”

“Which that talmi girl used to…?” Kaidan spoke again, Garrus guessed because he knew Wrex wanted someone to ask.

“She and her crew earned the talmi their bloody hands that day. Weren’t no batarians left alive by the time they paid me.” Wrex drank again. “That was just the start of things, but the talmi had Omega. The hub of the batarian’s empire out in the Terminus. Those freed slaves pulled the neural implants out of the slaves on Omega, and let the batarians come back in. Dumb pyjaks didn’t catch on that it was the talmi killing them until one shoved a grenade up the ambassador’s ass on the Citadel.”

Stunned silence followed. Garrus covered his eyes to avoid the questioning looks of the humans while Liara stifled a wretch, and Tali shook her head.

“That’s a… colorful metaphor.”

“Not a metaphor,” Wrex added with surprising neutrality. “Th’ guy was into some _weird shit_ , and got blown up because of it.”

Garrus groaned at the pun and pushed his food away.

“Things got a lot worse when the first djinn and efreets started showing up. People didn’t know what they were at the time, but looking back on it there’s no way they could be anything else. Every talmi outside the Terminus Systems was killed to keep them from setting the whole galaxy on fire.” Wrex paced for a bit. “After that, I got a job on an asari colony. Some bigshot with Binary Helix wanted a skilled bodyguard to make sure the talmi couldn’t come after her. Had to rely on journalists to find out what was happening. Council got involved, brokered a peace which cost the batarians everything they owned in the Terminus Systems.” The battlemaster looked off into the distance. “All because of arrogance, stupidity, and one little girl who learned how to use a blade.”

As Wrex returned to the table, to finish his ryncol, the humans chatted about what they’d heard. Once he was back, Ashley reached around Garrus to tap Wrex on the shoulder.

“Did you ever meet that talmi girl again?”

Wrex nodded, and drank a long swig of his alcohol. “Yeah.” His breath set the scraps of food on his plate on fire. “She came after that Binary Helix bigshot. I caught ‘er, unloaded a shotgun in her belly, but not before she put a Kishock harpoon through my client’s head. Guess the bitch was right to be afraid.” He noticed Garrus had abandoned his meal and automatically pulled it towards him.

“Wrex, you put that dextro food back this second!” Sector’s voice shouted from the kitchen.

“Gah, damned telepaths.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 12: Dead End Conversation**

One thing that Shepard didn’t enjoy about the Normandy’s CIC was how the command post was set up. At the center of the CIC was a holographic projector, which could project a variety of tactical information for the bridge crew. More often than not, it projected the Milky Way for the purposes of navigation. The command post was set up on a walkway that put the CO looking down on the projection and the bridge crew as well.

It was part of the turian design used in the Normandy, who elevated their commanders while talmi had their commanders among them. Shepard generally disliked being put on a pedestal like that, and she disliked how the downward view of the projections encouraged a lack of three-dimensional thinking.

Which, she reflected, might have been why the turians got smashed so hard in the Short War. They were rigid, disciplined, and inflexible, while the talmi weren’t. Humans, Shepard speculated, were somewhere in the middle. Not as rigid as the turians, but not as fluid as the talmi. An excellent middle of the road option.

Which she aimed to prove with a risky mission to hopefully take out some of Saren’s support.

She ascended to the platform she disliked so and engaged the command intercom. “This is a ship-wide briefing for the current mission objectives,” she said and stood at ease while the ship listened. Bridge staff turned to look at her, eager to hear what the new task was since the slave captives had been returned home. “Admiral Hackett has asked us to deal with a geth incursion ongoing in the Armstrong Nebula. Four systems are confirmed to have outpost level infrastructure which the Collective has verified is aligned with Saren. Our objective is to hit these areas hard, disrupt the geth’s presence and weaken Saren’s armed forces overall.” For the benefit of the navigators and bridge crew, Shepard’s omni-tool interfaced with the projector to the Armstrong Nebula.

Strategically, the Armstrong Nebula was a backwater. Pirates and slavers used it because it was close to comparitively well-off and underdefended Traverse colonies, yet far enough away that the Collective and Citadel couldn’t just smash them.

“We’re going to rendezvous with a Collective carrier group to pick up special ordnance for this mission. Details are on a need to know basis. Ground team, Joker, Chief Engineer Adams, and Navigator Pressley are currently the only members on the need to know list. The relevant parties are to report to the comms room for a mission briefing tailored to their involvement. This concludes this briefing.”

After Shepard made her way to the comms room to wait for people to stream in. There were only six chairs around the edges of the comm room, so it was first come, first serve on seating. Shepard opted to stand at ease as she looked at the screen. When not in use, the screen was kept on a picture of Earth. Barren, radioactive, wrecked. And frustratingly, the focus of the picture was North America -- where all the problems had come from.

“I know that look,” said the grizzled krogan battlemaster as he entered the comms room. “That’s the look I give Tuchanka.” He walked up and looked at Earth, then shrugged. “Not gonna lie, she’s seen better days.”

“Yeah, she has.” Shepard had never seen them. They were all gone by the time she’d been born. Her hands clenched so hard her knuckles popped. And she’d be long dead before Earth returned to those better days.

“Tuchanka’s oceans boiled away after our nuclear war.” Wrex scratched his chin. “So you didn’t wreck it as hard as we did ours. You guys can join the ‘our homeworlds are piles of rubble’ club the krogan and drell have had going for a while.”

“Only if there’s free doughnuts.” Shepard’s words were light-hearted and sarcastic. Her tone was bitter. She wanted to be able to be blase about it like Wrex was, but all she could manage was quiet anger.

“I’m down for anything involving free doughnuts.” In rolled Joker, in his pilot’s seat rascal. Tali and Jondum had modified the pilot’s chair in the rare eight-hour window when Joker was not in the seat, added an eezo core and semi-self-sustaining power supply, instant hoverchair Joker’s convenience.

Shepard turned and watched the team as they entered. Ashley was surprisingly chummy with Tela, who in turn had daggers for Liara. Liara, Kaidan, and Tali had a sort of camaraderie developing, with the LT as the translator for their two skillsets. Jondum came in with Joker, and seemed to be the only alien the pilot was okay sharing space with. Garrus practically hovered over Sector, who took a spot next to Wrex. There were some clear issues that would need to be resolved, but that could be dealt with over the course of the mission.

The Normandy’s senior officers, Pressley and Adams, were two sides of the same circumstance. Both were old enough to remember Earth during the Collapse, as Shepard was, and had taken different responses to it. Pressley had aged prematurely from stress, while Adams remained relatively youthful due to his mellow nature.

“Alright, the gang’s all here.” Shepard tapped her omni-tool and locked the comm room to prevent them being intruded upon. “I’ll begin the need to know briefing, everyone pay attention.”

With her omni-tool, Shepard brought up images and data on the comms room screen, and began her information dump. The first screen showed the relay connections for the Armstrong Nebula’s mass relay.

“The Council doesn’t have a dog in this fight, but the Alliance and Collective do.” She looked over at Tali. “So does the Migrant Fleet. Is everyone aware of what’s going on in the Attican Beta cluster?”

Most of the aliens nodded, while the humans didn’t. The only alien who seemed confused was Liara. “I’m afraid I’ve not kept up to date on all the latest news. Did something happen?”

“Tali, Garrus?”

Tali opted to speak first. “A couple decades ago, a garden world in the Attican Beta was discovered by the Collective. It had a rich biosphere, but the ecosystem was heavily reliant on airborne symbiotic lifeforms around the size of plankton, which caused deadly allergic reactions when inhaled by non-native life.”

“The Council was willing to write it off,” Garrus added, “but it turned out the planet was dextro-protein based, then the Hierarchy wanted the planet. But the Collective had rights to it, and they gave it to the Migrant Fleet.”

“Oh,” Liara said, ecstatic, and smiled as wide as her face could manage. “How wonderful! The quarians have a homeworld again!”

Tali narrowed her eyes at Liara. Garrus sighed and shook his head. Every human in the room looked awkward at best. Tela made a disgusted noise.

“Is… something the matter? Did I say the wrong thing?” Liara’s enthusiasm visibly melted.

“The Hierarchy didn’t take the loss _gracefully_ ,” Shepard chimed in. “One thing led to another and the turian fleet lost twelve dreadnoughts in half as many months.”

Liara’s already pale blue face became visibly whiter. “Wha…?”

“And my people haven’t even agreed on if we should settle it,” Tali added, a bit testy.

“Which makes a bunch of geth setting up shop one relay jump away from them a major concern with the Collective.” Shepard indicated the relay connection. “A concern which could be remedied with precise applications of violence.”

“Hence the special ordnance?” Jondum piped up. “I’m guessing something relating to the weapons provided by the geth which the turians were reviewing.”

“Right on the money.” Shepard changed the screen and brought up a simplified view of the Armstrong Nebula. “The special ordnance is a blocker for comm buoys, it keeps the geth programs from being able to escape the system via transmission.”

“Which means,” Tali added in a helpful tone, “that once we kill a geth platform, or a ship, they won’t have anywhere to go. They’ll be truly dead.”

“Truly be dead,” Shepard corrected quickly. “But otherwise correct. While the buoys are blocked like this, we’ll be off the net and off the comms network.”

“Isn’t this type of thing technically illegal?” Kaidan commented for the first time with an arched brow. “Comm buoys are supposed to be off-limits, like the mass relays, right?”

“Spectre,” Shepard, Sector, Jondum, and Tela all said at roughly the same time. “And trainee!” Sector added and tapped Garrus on the wrist.

“I’m guessing you have us on the need to know list because I’ll need to maintain these things while they’re on the Normandy,” Chief Engineer Adams said. The American pinched his chin in a thinker pose while he spoke. “The biggest problem will be deploying them in space. I’ll need specifications on them to know what options we have.”

“And I’ll need to chart out exactly where they are so we can pick them back up, won’t I?” Navigator Pressley asked, cross. “Hmm. Been a while since I used the minelaying configuration for stellar drift calculations….”

From there the meeting broke down into talks about the individual outposts. They were spread across four different systems, so the team would have lots of practice on fighting the geth in a variety of situations. Shepard catalogued some concerns the team raised, such as geth programs hacking into their personal comms and the Normandy, and would talk with her fellow tech experts about shoring up their cyberwarfare defenses.

However, she had one problem she needed to get addressed. “Sector,” she said, and quieted the rest of the chatter. “We need you to get into physical therapy and recover enough to where you can go into the field again. You, Liara, and I are the only people trained in soul manipulation -- and there’s only so much that can be done from the Normandy.”

“I’ll get back at it as soon as we’re done here,” the talmi Spectre confirmed.

“Good. Liara?” The commander turned to address their newest squadmate. “Have you made any progress on Tone? The geth don’t have a nervous system, but if you learned how their programs function?”

“I’ve been able to successfully Tone myself, Lieutenant Alenko, and Jondum,” Liara confirmed. “I… don’t know if it will work on the geth, but I will consult with Tali to learn as much as I can.”

“Don’t things need souls to be vulnerable to Tone?” Kaidan asked, his face the picture of confusion. “Do geth have souls?”

“Yes,” Tali said, matter of fact. “It’s been confirmed for hundreds of years that AIs, and some VIs, are capable of having souls. Like, that one on the Presidium, on the Citadel? She has a soul. The geth just need to gather in groups of around one hundred programs to have a collective soul.”

Kaidan paused, frowned, and then pondered. “Does… that mean geth can Shatter? Or become zombies? Or are they like the asari, or an autistic person?”

“Well they’re capable of religion, and they die if you shoot them a bunch,” Tela commented, offhand. “So let’s just shoot them a bunch and see if they come back as zombies.”

\--

Liara focused and gathered white light into the tip of her finger, which she then tapped to Tali’s head. The quarian shuddered as the mote of soul sunk into her skull but then suddenly she lept at a weapon from Sector’s crates with her omni-tool flared.

“Everyone underestimates how effective a moment of inspiration can be,” Sector commented from a few feet away. He was walking a circuit around the cargo hold with a cane, to build strength in his bad leg. The ship was quiet while Jondum, Wrex, and Shepard were out on the first outpost attack.

Garrus was in the midst of helping the talmi with his physical therapy, while Liara distributed inspiration to the tech experts for their cyberwarfare upgrades. Tali had been the last, so Liara could take a moment to rest.

“I mostly used this to help with exams during university,” Liara admitted. “But I’m glad I remember how to use it. Even if it is sort of cheating.”

“Cheating is encouraged when going into battle. Ow.” The talmi’s fur stood on end for a moment as he put a bit too much weight on his leg. “So, you used your soul primarily for psychometry?”

Liara lit up. A discussion where she could be treated as an equal! “Yes, it’s a bit esoteric, but I’ve been able to learn so much about the Prothean Empire from that ability.” She glanced at the floor, and tried not to smile. “I haven’t published it all yet, but I have reason to suspect that either the protheans had a form of psychometry naturally, or they too had soul manipulation techniques.”

“Prothean dead inside,” Tali commented as she filled a sealed canister with supercooled hydrogen. “That’d be something.”

“Indeed!” Liara bounced a bit, happy that no one had dismissed her hypothesis out of hand yet. “With psychometry, they could pass on complex ideas or skills with merely a touch. They even had technology that could do the same. I’m still pondering the effects that would have on a society.”

Garrus shook his head. “If you can get skills just from touching those who possess them, you’re doing everyone a disservice. It’d lead to stagnation.”

“But it didn’t.” Liara grinned. The turian had reached the same conclusion as she did. “Somehow they avoided stagnation, for thousands of years. I’m still trying to figure out how.”

“And you can do that? Learn things through touch?” Tali barely looked away as she used her omni-tool to manufacture a buzz-saw around the circular hand emitter. Seconds later the air was filled with the sound of cutting metal.

“Well, I’m not as proficient as the protheans at it but I can do something similar. I’ve avoided using it to acquire some skills, like gunplay and military tactics. But things like medicine, advanced mathematics, languages….” Liara shrugged. “I’m hoping that I’ll be able to help the Commander make sense of what the beacon showed her, once I know human anatomy better.”

Tali stopped mid-saw to look over at Liara. Garrus coughed noticeably. Sector paused in his walk cycle and perked his ears up.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” The archaeologist spread her hands to defend herself socially, as her face turned dark blue from embarrassment. “I meant, you know, knowing how her mind and nervous system works so I don’t knock her out halfway through… goddess, that’s worse.”

“Liara, breathe.” Tali took a deep breath with her to help fight the awkwardness. “Alright. You made some innuendos. We’re your shipmates, we’ll tease you about it, but that’s about it.”

“I… thank you, Tali. I suppose I’m not quite as good at escaping the racial stereotypes for asari as I’d hoped.”

“And don’t worry, none of us here will tell Shepard about how you want to get to know her anatomy,” Sector added.

Liara hid her face, in terrible embarrassment.

\--

Shepard had brought Wrex and Jondum along because she knew about the less than stellar relationship between their two species. Jondum had never expressed anti-krogan sentiments, but Wrex had never once looked at Jondum without a glare. The disparity in their ages might have had something to do with it, Wrex was pushing a thousand years old allegedly, while Jondum was sixteen -- just under middle-age for a salarian.

The two soul fragments Shepard held onto had no issue with each other fundamentally, so she thought perhaps a mission together could start some form of mutual respect.

She was wrong.

“I’ve been in more firefights than you can _fathom_ , pyjak, don’t go around telling me who to shoot and where.” Wrex snarled at Jondum from across the Mako’s seating. Shepard piloted the craft this time around.

“It was in your blind spot,” Jondum fired back, his eyes narrowed. “Those hopping geth seem to know that your species struggle to look directly up.”

“Could you.” Shepard launched the Mako into the air with the jets to jump over a geth armature. “Stop.” She spun the APC around so the machine gun and cannon could work together to take out the walking tank before it could turn around. “Arguing?”

“Lemme tell ya something, pyjak,” Wrex continued as if Shepard hadn’t said anything. “I’ve struggled all my life. I’d have seen that thing when I swept my head to the side, these big ol’ eyes have a wide range of vision.”

“Yes, but you could have died before that happened,” Jondum defended himself. “It only started shooting at me because I spotted it first.”

“It was shooting at you, jackass, because you had _a damn sniper rifle_ with _phasic_ rounds! A salarian sniper is just begging to be shot at, ask Shepard!”

“Fine, the next time something tries to kill you I’ll let you find out when they punch through your kinetic barrier.”

“I will turn this thing around and we will go _back to the ship_ ,” Shepard threatened. “Then you’ll have to explain to _everyone_ how you couldn’t stop squabbling long enough to kill geth!”

For a while, it was quiet as Shepard drove around the lichen-covered surface of a pre-garden world. Sometimes there would be explosions as she blasted a geth patrol or turret, but usually it was quiet.

“Pyjak,” Wrex muttered.

“Brute,” Jondum muttered back.

“Backstabber.”

“Ingrate.”

“Two faced.”

Shepard slammed on the brakes and whirled around to glare at the two belligerents. 

They were silent. 

She turned around most of the way forward, then whirled back around to glare at them a second time. 

Both of them had their mouths open as if to start up again. They returned to their previous poses and glared at each other.

Shepard turned around fully and applied enough throttle to get the Mako moving a little before she whirled around a third time.

They were moments away from going right back to bickering. Once more they relaxed and this time didn’t even glare at each other.

Once more, she turned around and properly started driving off to murder more machines. “The two of you are nothing compared to teenage daughters. Meena and Sumati would’ve taken another four times to give up and behave.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Codex Entry: The Talmi Collective**

(Narrated by special guest, Councilor Valern)

What became the Collective started during the Year of Fear. The rebellious slaves developed an internal structure based around family groups. The head of each family led their descendants into battle, and would ally with other families by way of marriage. This was the first sign of quarian involvement during the Year, as the pre-geth quarians had a similar government. However, batarian influence was not excluded from the proto-Collective. They funded their rebellion with criminal activities -- prostitution, gunrunning, corporate warfare, and alliance with mercenary companies.

Eventually, the heads of the families took on the titles and honorifics of the criminal elements the batarians had supported. Heads of a family became the boss, and earned the honorific ‘don’, while their subordinates are underbosses, etc. These criminal undertones have never been fully shed, nor have the talmi collectively wished for them to be.

All ‘dons’ are equal to each other, and they form a parliamentary system where each family head consults with their constituents before writing or voting upon legislation. The Collective is a devolved government, with each planet having its own parliament which is the ultimate authority on issues that concern them. For inter-planet governance, the Collective created the Commission, where representatives are appointed to act as mouthpieces for their constituents. Traditionally, the chairman of the Commission has acted as the Citadel ambassador to represent the race as a whole.

The Commission resolves issues of inter-planetary dispute within the Collective, as the Collectives parliaments resolve issues between individual dons. Furthermore, it is the Commission who approves and swears in a new don when the previous one passes away or abdicates. It also determines if an individual’s actions are meriting of being made the don of a new branch family.

Dead inside, particularly efreets, are common among the Collective’s dons. Their incredible personal power and sensory abilities mean they have a natural edge over dons who are sterlings, or even on the autism spectrum.

A don owes their family their loyalty and is expected to be their advocate -- in legal, military, and social instances. Typically a don who drifts too far from what their family wants or tries to crush their family into obedience is eliminated by other dons. A common such occurrence is to go fishing and come home alone. Everyone knows what happened, but no one will ask publicly. If it is justified, it will be labeled an accident. If not, then more accidents happen.

The Collective derives its name from how readily the talmi will unite when faced with outside stimuli. They will complain and bicker endlessly among themselves, but if a stranger comes upon them with ill-intent, old enemies will become fast friends. This was demonstrated in how quickly the Collective voted to aide the hanar evacuation of drell from Rakhana, begin the human diaspora, and retaliate against the Turian Hierarchy.

The Talmi Collective has allies in the Geth Consensus, the Systems Alliance, the Illuminated Primacy, and a cornucopia of Terminus Systems crime lords.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 13: Playing with Death**

When he was out the med-bay, Liara admitted that Sector looked at home in a kitchen. Not hurt in the least in that his ‘off-duty’ outfits resembled chef’s uniforms so much that she assumed him to _be_ a chef sometimes. He had asked for her help in the kitchens, as the food he intended to prepare for the evening meal required some biotic effects for the optimal flavor. Lieutenant Alenko was out on a mission with Garrus and the Commander -- they would strike at the next geth outpost and return with new intel.

Immediately on entering the kitchen she was directed to a cleaning station to scrub her hands and arms, and don a close-fitting mass effect field to keep skin particles and other bodily tissues from entering the food. It was a one-way mass effect field, so she also had to put on the chef’s tunic in case of spills.

“Alright,” Sector said as he hobbled across the Normandy’s kitchen to one of two stoves where every burner had a different dish cooking. “We’re going to need your help on the kentarosaurus stew. You lift portions about the size of your head out of the pot,” he took the lid off the stew, and Liara’s nose was assailed with savory smells, “and I’ll deliver a sharp ion charge from a plasma pistol. Then you simply return the stew to the pot, stir, and repeat until the sleshings turn purple. Follow me?”

Liara peaked over the side of the tall pot and narrowed her eyes. “Um, the sleshings are…?”

“It’s a root vegetable from Tuchanka. It’s the teal bits. Mildly radioactive, which is why we’re bombarding them with ions and dark energy.” Sector leaned on his cane and produced a talmi plasma pistol from his pocket. “I’m ready when you are.”

As Liara did as she was instructed, she got into a sort of rhythm. Lift, keep it steady as Sector shot it, then return and stir. She was so focused on _not screwing up_ , that she didn’t notice how quickly the time went. After ten shots, the sleshings were appropriately purple, and the heat could be reduced to let it simmer.

“You know, Wrex and the Commander think you’re on the up and up with how you didn’t know anything about Benezia’s new hot hookup,” Sector commented as he removed a pudding in cheesecloth from a pot of boiling water. “Me? Tela? We’re harder to convince.”

Liara sighed and automatically went to wash some of the dishes caused by the cooking. The kitchen staff were swamped by the extra work preparing dextro-protein food required -- she thought she could help that way. “I understand your suspicion. You have an asari daughter. You… know how attached we can be to our mothers.”

“Mhm. Which is why we’re having this meeting.” Sector leaned on the counter as he passed the pudding to another chef so it could be dried. “Where, if you’re not convincing, you can be disposed of easily.”

Liara paused in the application of soap to a scrub-pad to look at the white-and-red talmi with horror.

“No,” he waved her off and hobbled back to his rascal. “We won’t carve you up for any food. But this is the spot in the ship where the outer hull is closest. I can easily poof you out into space, and be done with this whole situation.” He shrugged, blase about how easy it would be to murder her. “But I’m also a telepath, so I’m picking up on your surface thoughts.” The two of them locked eyes. Sector didn’t really look at her, it was like his focus was on something behind her, while she was terrified.

“I’m not my mother,” Liara said, firm. “I’m not a monster just because she’s chosen to become one. I’ve defied her, I’ve defied the Endless, and I defied asari society to have my own accomplishments measured.”

“I want to believe you. But I need to verify if that belief is grounded in reality or not.” Sector’s eyes continued to look past Liara as she stoicly stood with one hand in a sink full of dishes in need of doing. “I’m not hearing any lingering Tones in your thoughts, so it’s unlikely you have any of her compulsions on you. That’s good enough for now.”

“Thank you,” she wanted to be bitter about being a hair’s breadth away from being spaced. But mostly she was relieved that there weren’t any compulsions her mother had Toned into her. “I’m not one of the Endless, you know. I’m not one of her fanatics.”

“If you were one of the Endless, Tela would’ve killed you by now and there’d be nothing we could do about it,” Sector admitted, and floated by. “Gotta say, I'm surprised at how strong-willed you are given your age. It's a good surprise, though."

"But not good enough to convince you totally?"

"Nah, I'll wait until Tela has her shot at testing your mettle. You're Going with Shepard to take out the next very outpost." Sector picked up a spoon and gestured at her with it before he stood to stir another dish. "When you're done with the dishes, grab some ice cream for your trouble. I got some of that human Ben & Jerry's stuff."

\--

When Liara went to her locker to retrieve her armor and weapons for the mission, she noticed that Sector’s locker was right next to hers. That hadn’t been the case on the last mission -- Sector hadn’t had a locker at all. She was curious as to what equipment the talmi would use, and opened the locker to peak in. There was a pistol that resembled a Carnifex pistol with an enlongated barrel, and a black submachine gun with a massive suppressor attached -- which, curiously, had an extra bullet tied to it. Were both of the weapons meant to be silenced? Would that work for her?

She hadn’t done so in a long time, but she gathered a bit of soul energy to her finger, and directed it into her own head -- inspiration on command.

Liara closed the locker and went ahead with dressing in the medic-intended armor set. But rather than the standard-issue Predator pistol, she opted to head back toward the crates of munitions which Sector had brought aboard. Tali and a couple other engineers were hard at work applying network upgrades that Liara’s inspiration had helped make possible.

“Excuse me, Tali?” Liara asked, tentatively.

The quarian woman glanced up then returned to her work on a peculiar angular assault rifle. “Hey Liara, did you need something?”

“I was… curious, have your engineers completed any heavy pistols or submachine guns that look like they have silencers attached?” The scientist was honest in her request. “I saw Sector has silenced weapons, and I thought they might be good for me, too?”

“Garrus or Ashley are who you want to talk to about whether or not they’re a fit. I would say Tela, but she’s… yeah.” Tali shrugged. “We did finish the suppressors and atalantas Sector brought on board, though. Over there, by the Tuchanka sausage.”

Liara blinked several times as she tried to process the last part.

Tali picked up on how Liara hadn’t moved, and coughed awkwardly. “It’s uh. The name for a type of krogan missile launcher. It’s really....” She coughed again. “It’s really distinct in its design. Keelah, I think I’m coming down with something.”

Liara thanked Tali and went looking through the racks of weapons due to be moved to the armory, when she stopped and balked at what could only be the Tuchanka sausage. “By the goddess,” she exclaimed and covered her eyes.

“Told you.”

“The krogan really used something so… vulgar looking?”

“They’re _men_ , of course they did. You should’ve heard Wrex when they took it out of the crate, he was laughing so hard.”

Liara kept a hand over her peripheral vision so she wouldn’t have to look at it, and checked the racks for the weapons she wanted. She found a base model pistol like what she had seen in Sector’s locker, the M-11 suppressor, and then found a brown, tan, and orange camo painted silenced submachine gun, the atalanta.

The first thing she did was link her omini-tool to the weapons to change their base model colors, as hideous camo and red-borderline-black were not looks she particularly enjoyed.

\--

During the entire time when Shepard piloted the Mako and took out the heavy outer defenses, Tela had glared at her. It was as if her existence in and of itself was offensive. But Liara didn’t want to make a fuss, they were on a mission, and she wanted to perform well.

“You have your ammo configured for warp fields, T’Soni?” Tela asked, her light tone not at all congruent with her expression.

“I… don’t think so, no,” Liara answered and looked at the ground.

“Goddess, surrounded by commandos your whole life and you didn’t even pick up on that?” Tela rolled her eyes and flared her omni-tool to life. It transmitted an ammo configuration which Liara then applied to her weapons. “Warp ammo interacts with our biotic powers, causes an explosion. It’s useful, and we _like_ to be useful, don’t we?”

“Of course.” Liara wanted to correct her, she hadn’t been around commandos her whole life. Most of Benezia’s followers were philosophers. They only became militant in the last thirty years. But there was no point, there were on a mission.

“Good. Now you stay back and do as you’re told, we’ll get through this.”

The Mako stopped, and Shepard turned around. “We’re here,” the human announced. “Let’s go route out the research station.”

The geth had taken over a research station on the planet Rayingri, what the research station was originally for and what the geth had appropriated it for were unknown. It was situated in a desert region on the planet, where dust was often in the wind, and spire-like mountains of red sandstone dotted the horizon. It was beautiful, Liara thought.

The doors were sealed shut, but Shepard quickly went to work on them with her omni-tool. Tela and Liara flanked the door, ready to turn and fire when Shepard gave the signal. As Shepard worked, she held up a hand and counted down from three. On reaching zero, the door opened.

Tela and Liara turned and scouted down the hall for any hostiles, and found a crowd of humanoid _things_ which rushed them with no weapons. They looked like machines with cables threaded through them wearing a human corpse as a suit.

“Husks,” Tela shouted, and fired her vindicator. “Unshielded husks!”

Liara fired the suppressor for the first time and found the name truly appropriate. It was like a ‘tss’ sound rather than the roar of Tela’s assault rifle. What’s more, there was little recoil. The first round hit a husk in center-mass and only caused it to stumble as it continued onward. Shepard joined the firing line, and her cryo-round helped slow them down. Liara felt like she was plinking away at enemies without doing much.

Then she got a headshot, and the husk’s head exploded. Fragments of tech, bone, and viscera everywhere. It awoke something in her. Something that ‘clicked’, like she’d been slightly off-center her whole life. “Oh _fuck_ yes,” Liara said mostly to herself and swiveled her aim to line up another headshot. Faster than the first. The third was even faster. Pop pop pop, the husks’ heads went.

Then the husks were either frozen and shattered, riddled with bullets, or had their heads popped. Tela and Liara hadn’t even needed to use biotics. A clean sweep.

“Good shooting Liara,” Shepard complimented her and clapped her on the shoulder. “Glad to see the new pistol and training are working for you.”

“Yeah,” Tela added, almost genuine but with a forced undertone. “You didn’t let the pain of those poor people trapped inside those things trouble you at all. Way to go.”

A cold chill ran up Liara’s spine as Shepard took point. “They were….?” She asked, but her soul senses let her see the truth already. Echos of soul fragments that floated from the remains and dissolved.

“Yep. Used to be some poor humans. Fully aware, trapped inside those things. But hey, they’re dead now.”

“They needed to die anyway,” Shepard commented. “Now form up, we have work to do.”

\--

It was getting crowded in Shepard’s soul, she noted as checked the last few rooms in the research station for any lingering platforms. She had a piece from a krogan test subject, a salarian sniper, and now added a geth prime to her collection. As other geth platforms were made inoperable, more and more transferred to the prime’s platform to escape death. Its soul had grown considerably before the three of them could take it down too. Once its kinetic barrier was overheated, Liara had no trouble hitting it with a singularity that Tela combined with a warp field.

Then Shepard was able to finish it off with a disruptor grenade. Its soul split apart, and joined with hers.

Already she could feel the effects. She took note of thousands of tiny details that seemed unimportant before -- the pattern similarity on Tela’s face to the Asari Councilor’s, just how blue Liara’s eyes were, the scratch marks on the research center doors from where the humans had tried to claw free, and many others.

Her engineer training combined with the networking efficiency of the geth soul, and the numerical inclination of the salarian’s -- it made her feel like she was high on something given how sudden the change was.

For the first time she found herself actively incorporating ricochets into how she shot her pistol. Once they were clear, Shepard went to work setting up an EMP bomb to destroy the remaining geth in the station’s network. However, she stopped when she noticed something. Or rather, the krogan part of her soul noticed something.

“Shepard, what’s the holdup?” Tela asked the Commander as she sat in front of the half-completed bomb. “These geth can self-repair, remember?”

The krogan part of her soul ground against the geth prime’s portion, and Shepard could feel chains stretch off from the soul into a distant place. The krogan hated the chains. So, Shepard did too.

“Just processing,” Shepard muttered, and slowly went back to work. “Making sure I make no mistakes.”

She felt a deep cold in her limbs, a sense of distortion, and her hud alerted her that she had started to bleed from her nose.

**“Above the pelvis, the second step. It is blocked by guilt. What guilt weighs you down?”** The deep voice of Leviathan rumbled in Shepard’s thoughts as she mindlessly worked on the EMP bomb.

The geth soul had no memories with it, only a desire to gather resources and utilize them efficiently. But at the edges of where its soul had splintered was an emotion: Not being perfect. Shepard knew that feeling well -- it had been taught to her mother, and from her mother onto her. She’d struggled so much not to teach it to her girls. And she saw it in the way the Council talked to her, or how the Alliance talked _about_ her. She needed to be perfect, but she knew she couldn’t be.

“I think something’s wrong,” Liara said as she crouched down to look at Shepard. “Her soul is behaving erratically.” The archaeologist reached up her hand, which shined with soul power. Shepard didn’t react.

“Hands off, T’Soni,” Tela snarled. “Now.”

“Shepard, if everything’s okay, tell me now.” Liara got no answer, as Shepard was focused inward. “I’m going to try and shake her loose of whatever this is.”

Tela leveled her rifle at Liara, and found herself swept up in a singularity for her trouble.

Liara touched Shepard’s shoulder and made contact with the human’s soul.

**“You cannot pour from an empty vessel. Do what you can for them, and forgive yourself for not being able to please everyone.”**

Liara frowned and looked at Shepard’s vacant expression through the visor in her helmet. “Who is talking to you?”

Shepard’s head snapped to look at her suddenly, and Liara recoiled from sudden spiritual backlash.

**“Your light cannot breach the darkness,”** Shepard’s mouth told her with a foreign voice. **“Let her resolve this on her own terms.”** Shepard snapped back to awareness a moment later, and took a moment to examine the scene around her. She didn’t remember working that much on the EMP bomb, or Tela being trapped in a anti-gravity orbit around a mass effect singularity, or Liara’s expression being that worried.

But the chains the krogan soul fragment felt on the geth soul fragment were gone. She knew that vividly well.

Shepard took a deep breath and went to work again on the EMP bomb. The geth’s soul fragment helped her speed up the assembly process. “I think I need to talk to Sector about this once we’re back on the ship.”

“If T’Soni doesn’t get me down _right now_ , you’re also going to need to talk to Sector about a fucking _seance_.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 14: Deadened Nerves**

Donnel Udina was many things, but he hoped mission-oriented was at the top of the list when others described him. He had turned his stubbornness and knowledge to the benefit of his species, even if they were bordering too far gone. Without Earth, humanity was on the galaxy’s shit list -- with the talmi lording over them, their growth was stymied. It would have been one thing if the talmi had made them a client race, as apparently the turians had done to the volus. But they hadn’t.

Donnel Udina was many things, and cutthroat and ruthless was among the most noteworthy. The political climate of the Collapse had been chaotic, everyone out for themselves and their people’s survival. Galactic history lessons had done much to show how ‘human’ aliens could be, with their similar interests.

But the talmi government did not squeeze their vassals for resources, labor, or even gratitude. Donnel was the sort of man to make even his allies buy every inch they gained with him, but Law and the talmi government were so _damnably_ generous. It was like the resources they gave humanity didn’t matter, they were easily spared, the talmi didn’t fight them at all.

How could he spin the concessions he got from the Collective to his benefit when Law ‘graciously’ gave him what he asked for without resistance? How could humanity raise itself up if not by forcing the talmi, then the wider galaxy to give them what they wanted? Did the talmi not see them as competition? A tiger that they held by the tail? How terrible an insult that would be.

Needless to say, he didn’t much care for the alternate narratives that came from Mindoir, Shanxi, or the Blitz. That humanity’s worlds had merely been battlegrounds for more important players to fight the talmi.

If he’d had an office space of his own, rather than existing literally in Law’s shadow, then things would be easier. He could get by without dealing with Law and his… explicit ways.

Udina glared at the door as he heard Law and a turian speak on the other side. It sounded like Sparatus, but he couldn’t be sure. Eventually the door opened, and Law stepped through. The talmi looked clean and proper -- but Donnel knew Law to be neither of those things.

“Are you quite done whoring for the day,” Udina snarled as soon as the door closed. “There’s work to be done, you know.”

“Donnel, I’m a politician,” Law replied and sauntered to his desk. “If I’m not whoring, am I even really doing my job?”

Udina didn’t know it was possible for his scowl to get deeper, but life found a way to bless him with an even more dire way to convey his disgust. “You’re here to advocate for your species not to frit away hours on carnal matters.”

“What in heaven’s name do you think I’m doing _while_ I fritter away hours on carnal matters?” Law’s eyebrows rose. “You would find so many people so much more receptive to your species if you were all just less prudish. I mean, come on, the galactic superpower is the _asari_. This is how they _do business_.”

“On Earth things were done -- “

It was Law’s turn to scowl, and he took it. “Differently, I get that. But you’re not on Earth, you’re on the Citadel. You’re playing with outdated rules and complain that everyone else is _cheating_. You need to get with the times.” Law adjusted his suit and spun to face his desk and began tapping away. “As it is, my whoring has earned me a bit of information that might interest your government.”

Udina’s scowl hadn’t let up as he was chastised, but his eyes narrowed at the possibility of useful information. “Such as?”

The one-eyed politician frowned. “Turian observation platforms picked up relay activity heading to the Attican Beta cluster. Something too large to be the Normandy. Whatever it was didn’t stay in the Hercules system long enough for the Migrant Fleet to get a good look, but the Citadel Defense frigates stationed there managed to catch a visual.”

Moments later a file appeared in Udina’s feed. It was a distant image of a ship whose profile resembled a cuttlefish. Like the one that had attacked Eden Prime.

“Thank you for this, Law,” Udina grudgingly admitted. “Can… we count on the Collective’s support in defending Feros?” He hated that he had to ask, but he did it anyway.

“Of course, Donnel. I’ll have the In Amber Clad and Forward Unto Dawn carrier groups re-route to assist. Perhaps you’ll ask the Normandy for help when she comes back onto the network?”

“Yes, I’ll see it’s done.” He hated that Law was right. He hated that Law was so willing to help. He hated the situation, and the sheer loss that humanity had faced to reach that point. For a moment he just hated Law altogether.

“And Donnel,” Law added, ever so slightly coy. “My geneticist has an open patient slot, if you wanted to get some better telomerase and enjoy being a young man again?”

“...What are their rates? Are they private, or state-sponsored?” And like a true politician, the moment the things he hated stood to benefit him, he hated them no longer.

\--

Shepard found the combination of a salarian soul and geth prime soul to be almost annoying. She was unconciously running math in her head, figuring out the amount of ammunition block her pistol had from its weight alone, plotting out when she’d need to change her hardsuit battery from how it behaved during the power-down process, and other such things. But she would have to adapt until she found something important enough to burn the soul fragments using. If ever.

Once her equipment was stowed, and she made sure Liara and Tela were on opposite sides of the ship so no hands would be thrown, she went in search of Sector. She expected to find him in the kitchen, but a quick scan of the ship put him in Engineering. When Shepard got down there, she found the talmi and Tali talking in what was obviously meant to be a private conversation. Shepard only caught the tail end of it, however.

“...and so long as I keep the item in good condition, I’ll be fine?” Tali asked, her tone ever so slightly afraid.

“Mhm,” Sector nodded as he dug around in his pouch. “It limits your options, but lets you focus on one thing to get _really_ good at before you branch out into other fields.” He took out a deactivated omni-tool and offered it to her. “How’s this? Archanis series, top of the line stuff.”

“Ooh,” Tali said, always interested in new tech, and reached out for it. “Gimmie.” She fitted it to her wrist opposite her normal omni-tool and quickly booted it up. “We give the humans crap for a lot of stuff, but they’re so _good_ at making user interfaces. Look at this? Haptic sensors better than anything else on the market.”

“Daisy knows her stuff. Think it’ll work for you?”

Tali nodded, and noticed Shepard approach. “Oh, hello Commander I was… we were just… oh, keelah, would you look at the time, I have to go wash my… bye!” As if she’d been caught doing something scandalous, Tali turned and power-walked away to the engine room.

Sector turned in place in his rascal and gave Shepard a smile. “Sorry, just talking shop. Still in the exploratory phase, see if she’s got the stuff. What’s up?”

Shepard watched Tali go then glanced down at Sector. “You and I need to talk about Leviathan.”

“Alright. I’m a lot more clear-headed now that I can move, so go ahead.”

Shepard looked around, and jerked her head toward the life support maintenance room. The two relocated there, and Shepard made sure to lock it with her clearance level. Only one of the other Spectres onboard could open the door before she reset it. “Leviathan took control of me for a moment on the planet, it talked to me, and I want to know what exactly is up with it.”

Sector watched the civilian-sector grade airscrubbers work in the wall-mounted filtration systems. “It doesn’t often take control of people, it’s big on free will and all that.” He lit up his omni-tool and projected an image on the wall. It was some sort of arthropodal shape in the general profile of a cuttlefish. “It’s the oldest efreet on record, and pre-dates talmi liberation but we haven’t gotten specific details on it. It approached the first talmi Shattered, and taught them how to become djinn-si, and eventually efreets. Since then it only communicates with djinn-si who have the capacity to become efreets, or with extant efreets.”

Shepard tried not to note how similar the general profile was to the dreadnought which had landed on Eden Prime. It seemed too obvious. “And your species… worship it?”

“Too strong a word. We _respect_ it.” Sector’s face pinched as he explained, likely some translator error. “Leviathan helped us when it didn’t have to -- when the galaxy would go on just fine if our rebellion had failed. An efreet can tell you more, some of them chat with it on the regular. That’s all the publicly available info.” Sector disabled the projection and looked at Shepard with an inscrutable expression. “How you processing this so far?”

Shepard crossed her arms and looked down. “I don’t quite like it talking to me in my mind like that… it’s like it just comes and goes when it wants. My mind is private, and I want to keep it that way.”

“She said to the telepath who doesn’t have the option to turn that power off,” Sector muttered. “But okay. I’ll pass that along to an efreet, who in turn will pass that along to Leviathan. It respects boundaries, and should ask you in the future.”

Shepard looked up sharply. “Wait, you can’t turn your telepathy off?”

“Nope, not even while I’m sleeping.” Sector shrugged. “I’m on medication to help me get sleep despite all your dreams ‘clogging up the airwaves’ as it were.”

“So all this time -- “

“Yep.” Sector nodded. “Everything. As you guys think it. Every fucking thing.” He shuddered. “The things you humans have rolling around in your heads is sometimes stuff I wish I didn’t have the capacity to imagine.”

“Nothing… untoward, I hope?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad none of the crew know what my daughter looks like, from the things they think about Liara, Tela, and asari in general.”

\--

While they moved to the last known geth outpost, Shepard busied herself with personalizing her cabin. She had a lot of stuff in storage that she wanted to use to decorate the place. Some of what she brought out of vectorspace storage hadn’t seen starlight in decades. Still images of India before the Collapse -- priceless heirlooms. A carved rock statue of Guanyin. And finally a picture of the familly she’d lost on Mindoir.

Once, she couldn’t bear to look on the picture from the pain it caused her. Seeing her girls, seeing Seamus, his expansive family in the background while only Shepard’s mother remained on her side -- it felt familiar. It was the only picture she had of all of them in one place -- the wedding pictures hadn’t survived the fires.

Thirteen years later, properly Shattered and advanced into being a djinn, it didn’t hurt as much to remember. She had just fixed the position of the photo next to her bed when there was an entry request ping on her omni-tool.

She put the mementos of the past down and stepped around to the door. Once opened, it revealed Tali, with her hands together in front of her. Shepard sensed something amiss and frowned. “Tali, is everything okay?”

“It’s… um, fine. I just had a talk with Ashley and Kaidan and… um.” The mechanic rubbed her glass-covered face and shook her head. “Keelah, this is so embarrassing.” Tali eventually mustered up the courage to look Shepard in the eye. “Lanatus wasn’t abusing me. In fact, he wasn’t even my boyfriend. We were coworkers. We collected debts owed by the Tybalt family on the Citadel.”

Shepard blinked as she processed this information. “Um. I kind of figured that out already, you’ve talked about how you were a debt collector.”

“Well, yes, but I thought it was in the context of ‘oh, I had an unpleasant line of work’. But Kaidan let it slip that the position I was offered was because of that and….” She trailed off and looked down at her feet. “I wanted you to know, if you only asked me to be part of the crew out of pity, I’d like to be dropped off at the next port.” She sounded so _defeated_ , it tugged at Shepard’s heart.

Shepard stood aside and gestured inward. “Tali, come inside.” When she did, Shepard closed the door and sighed. “I won’t lie. We thought you needed an out for a bad situation. But Captain Anderson conducted your interview, and he didn’t know why we offered you the position. He was unbiased, and came to the conclusion you’d be a great fit for the team.”

Tali couldn’t meet her eye, she just watched the ground. It was then that Shepard remembered how _young_ Tali was, not even a full adult by her culture’s reckoning.

“Yes, we at first offered you the position out of pity, but you’re the one who capitalized on it and worked to show us how justified having you on the crew was. You’re a technical expert that not even I can match up to, and your work ethic is strong enough to inspire our lazier crewmates to step up their game.”

Little by little, Tali lifted her head to meet Shepard’s gaze.

Shepard took a step closer, her first instinct was to reach out to Tali, but the salarian part of her soul told her that unwanted touching could reverse the effect of ensuring Tali felt respected by Shepard and the crew. So she held off. “I know how it feels to be given things because of pity. Humanity’s been living off talmi charity for decades now. I wouldn’t wish that on you for more than it was absolutely necessary -- and it hasn’t been for a long time.” She took a moment to think, quite loudly, about she wasn’t ungrateful for the charity -- just sympathetic to the feeling of powerlessness that came with it.

“Thanks, it means a lot to hear that.” Tali fiddled with her fingers as she talked. “This is a big opportunity, working with so many Spectres, and with the first human Spectre on the first human warship, the story alone might be worth my Pilgrimage. I just… didn’t want the story to be about people who took me along because they felt bad for me.”

Shepard glanced at the picture of her lost family. Her girls were just above and below Tali’s age when Mindoir happened. It was easy to think of how they would have similar conversations with people, had they made it and she passed instead. That decision informed her of her final words on the subject. “I can promise you, I won’t ever treat you that way. Every word of praise you earn from me is deserved. You earned the trust I have in you. And if you need me to talk to your prospective captain when your Pilgrimage is over, I’ll do it. Come to think of it, a letter of recommendation would probably be appropriate to include anyway.”

Tali perked up at that, visibly happier with the situation. “Oh, that’d be wonderful! ...Though if you don’t survive the fight against Saren and the geth, it’ll be poor form to use it.” She immediately shifted gears to her mechanic mindset. “Hmm, we can probably upgrade your shields with some parts from the support pylon, since you’re not getting a good chance to use it much anymore….”

“Well, I’ve been thinking I could strap a jet engine on it and use it as a shielded missile. That could be fun.”


End file.
